Pressure
by Mia Cooper
Summary: AU: JP, JC, KT. Janeway is Maquis and Chakotay the Starfleet captain, and they've met before. Old and new attractions complicate the dangers of an unknown quadrant when Tom Paris is caught up in an interstellar conspiracy.
1. One

Pressure By Mia Cooper cyanideblue@juicylime.net  
  
Summary  
  
Captain Chakotay's Starfleet crew and Kathryn Janeway's Maquis have merged into one crew aboard the Federation starship Voyager, stranded 70,000 light years from their homes.  
  
The command team must find a way to reconcile their past relationship. Old betrayals, new attractions and the dangers of an unknown quadrant are brought into play when the one crewmember who belongs nowhere is caught up in an interstellar conspiracy.  
  
Pairings J/C, J/P, K/T  
  
Disclaimer A company named Paramount Would likely be disturbed about My borrowing its characters But it's not fattening MY purse.  
  
Rated [R].  
  
__________________ one __________________  
  
Stardate 48319.5  
  
"I am not going to wear these Starfleet pyjamas!"  
  
The red and black fabric skidded across his desk, followed by the double- thud of a pair of boots. Chakotay bit back on a sigh and rubbed at his forehead again, more forcefully this time. Reluctantly, he stood to face her. She wore nothing but the grey tank and knickers which constituted standard Starfleet undergarments; he'd ordered her tattered Maquis clothes to be recycled. Had she stormed through the halls of the ship like this?  
  
"On the contrary, Kathryn. You will wear this uniform unless you are off- duty, and you will wear it with good grace. You will perform your duties to the best of your ability. And you will follow my orders at all times."  
  
Blue-grey eyes flashed defiance. "Listen to me, Chief Big Talk. When I left Starfleet eighteen months ago I swore I'd never kowtow to another glorified dictator in military uniform. And I sure as hell won't sacrifice my principles for you."  
  
Chakotay watched her silently. She flushed. Shrill echoes of her anger died away.  
  
He was moving around the desk towards her. She had to raise her head to meet his eyes. His were clouded with fatigue.  
  
He was too close. She backed away a step, hating herself for it.  
  
"I'm not asking you to sacrifice your principles. I'm asking for your help. We need you, Kathryn. We need - I need someone I can trust."  
  
She snorted. "Since when have you ever trusted me, Chakotay? Did you trust me when you tracked me to the Badlands? Did you trust me over on the Array, when you kept your phaser pointed at my back?" She laughed without humour. "Think I didn't notice?"  
  
"Kathryn." He was moving close again. "Kate -"  
  
"No." She wrenched away. "Don't bother with the sweet-talk, Captain. You don't trust me, and you never have. And making me wear this uniform won't change that."  
  
He looked at her coldly. "I thought you'd learned by now to pick your battles, Kathryn. Despite what you seem to think, I'm not your enemy."  
  
"Oh, no. You were only following orders, weren't you, Chakotay? Hunt down the Maquis terrorists and haul them back to a nice little Federation penal colony where they can't do any more damage to your precious peace treaty. Christ!" She wanted to explode. "Did you even go to Dorvan V after the massacre? Did you see what they did to your home? To your family? Did you care?"  
  
She'd wounded him. She watched his face. His eyes were shutting down. Before she could stop herself she'd reached out to him. "Chakotay, I'm -"  
  
"Sorry. I know. For God's sake, Kate ..." He sighed. "I'm sorry, too. For tracking you down. For placing Tuvok on your ship. For stranding us here - stranding you here. But you know I had no choice."  
  
She snatched her hand back just before she touched him. "There is always a choice."  
  
"Fine. Then accept mine."  
  
Kathryn almost laughed. "Do I have a choice?"  
  
Chakotay's mouth curled. "Sure you do. You can choose to be a martyr. You can scrub the warp plasma manifolds or cool your heels in the brig for the next seventy-five years. You can make this difficult when it doesn't have to be. You can fight me every step of the long way home. Or -" he smiled - "or, you can accept my decision and stand by my side as my First Officer."  
  
"And follow your orders? Uphold your Starfleet ideals? Ask my crew to do the same, when you know how much they'll chafe against it?"  
  
"How much they'll chafe against it all depends on you."  
  
She bent her head. "I can't ask that of them, Chakotay. Starfleet - the Federation - betrayed them. They've lost their homes and families, too -"  
  
"And so has everybody on this ship! Kathryn, listen to me. We are seventy thousand light years from the Federation. What matters now is that we stand together. That we're strong, together." His dark eyes pleaded with her. "You know it's the right thing to do."  
  
"The right thing to do," she echoed, once more shaking with fury. "How very Starfleet of you. Was it right to sign that treaty with Cardassia? To condemn whole planets to their tender mercies?" She was screaming into his stony face. "Don't talk to me about right and wrong, Chakotay! You have no right."  
  
He moved so swiftly he was almost a blur, gripping her naked upper arms, holding her tighter when she tried to struggle. She'd forgotten that - panther-like, his size belied his grace. She stopped struggling, watched him warily. Chakotay said, "Put on that uniform."  
  
"I won't."  
  
"You will." He let her go and flexed his fingers, trying not to think of the way her skin had felt. He snagged the uniform from his desk and pushed it into her arms. "Get dressed."  
  
I don't want to. Kathryn tossed her head and he averted his eyes from the swish of her hair against her shoulder. She was still staring at him mulishly.  
  
"Fine. I'll dress you myself." Chakotay made to take the uniform. She hung on. "Get away from me." His hands closed over hers. Her skin burned. She dropped her gaze. "All right. I'll put it on."  
  
She turned her back to him, stepped into the trousers, pulled on the boots, fastened the jacket, scraped her hair into a twist behind her head. She could feel his eyes. She could almost feel his hands. She turned to face him. He looked quickly away.  
  
"Satisfied?" Kathryn planted hands on hips. Chakotay stepped toward her.  
  
"Kathryn Janeway, I hereby award you the rank and position of Commander, First Officer of the Federation starship, USS Voyager." He fastened her rank pin onto her collar, meeting steely eyes. "Report to the bridge at once."  
  
"And if I don't?" Trying to control her breathing.  
  
"Then report to the brig instead. This discussion is terminated. Dismissed."  
  
She didn't move.  
  
He glared at her. "That, you might remember, is the Starfleet word for get out."  
  
And the new Commander Janeway turned smartly on her heel, and headed for the bridge.  
  
=/\=  
  
Well, wasn't this a pretty state of affairs.  
  
Commander Janeway glanced around the mess hall, scowling, as much from the sight of her former crew decked out in Starfleet black as from the poison that Talaxian had the nerve to call coffee. She leaned against the wall and wondered if she looked as out of place as she felt. The doors swished open and despite herself, Kathryn Janeway straightened to attention.  
  
You could hardly call it walking. He paced into the room, an animal on the prowl, his stride relaxed. He looked at ease. She knew better. She could see the long hard muscles moving underneath that uniform. He was always alert. Red alert. She looked away.  
  
"May I have your attention, please."  
  
The strained hubbub of conversation ceased. Chakotay's gaze encompassed the room. Starfleet on the left. Maquis on the right. He'd known immediately where she stood.  
  
"Commander Janeway."  
  
Coolly she left the safety of the wall and stalked toward him. Eyes bored into her back. She didn't twitch.  
  
"Captain."  
  
He smiled, but there was warning in his eyes. He didn't need to raise his voice; he had their complete attention.  
  
"I know you're all feeling the strain of the past few days, and I can't promise that we have an easy road ahead of us. You all know how far we have to go. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to get this crew home." He paused. Janeway schooled her face; what a showman. He continued.  
  
"Out here, we'll be facing challenges we never dreamed of. We'll be fighting against unknown odds, meeting species we never knew existed. But together we stand a far better chance of succeeding." Again he stopped, and his gaze levelled left, then right. "I know we have our - differences. But an integrated crew - a Starfleet crew - can make this work. We'll face those challenges together. One crew. One family."  
  
Chakotay turned and gestured Janeway forward. "Those of you who were Maquis may find this a difficult transition, and I will do everything within my power to help you with that. As such, my first decision has been to make your former captain my First Officer. Commander Janeway and I are in complete agreement on this, and I want you all to follow her lead." He smiled, and she watched as most - Starfleet and Maquis alike - smiled back involuntarily. He ruled with charm. He always had. She raised her chin.  
  
"Commander Janeway knows your skills better than I do yet, so she will give you your duty assignments. Like you, this ship lost several of her crew when we were pulled into the Delta quadrant, and we need replacements quickly. I'm sorry there isn't more time for us all to get used to this. But I have every confidence that we can combine our talents and our expertise and get this ship back to Federation space. One more thing." Chakotay grinned again. "This mission will be twofold. We'll be scouring space for anything to get us back to the Alpha quadrant faster, but we'll also be on a mission of exploration. This is a unique chance to explore a region of space we've never seen before. It'll be exciting. And it will be fun."  
  
The grin deepened. Janeway watched the dimples form and caught her breath involuntarily. He was speaking again.  
  
"I know you'll make me proud."  
  
He turned to her. She forced her lips into the expected smile. Straightened her shoulders. Stood by his side. They looked back at her, waiting. She didn't know what to say. She said, "Well, go on, then. It's supposed to be a party."  
  
The tension broke; the crew's attention turned away. She looked up at Chakotay. He was smiling and his eyes were soft. "Thank you," he said quietly.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For -" he halted. He gestured vaguely. "For standing with me."  
  
Blue eyes met his own and he couldn't read her expression. "Of course, Captain," she replied.  
  
=/\=  
  
No Kes with wide-eyed sympathy; no Seska with unconcealed contempt. He sighed in relief. "Computer, activate emergency medical holographic program."  
  
The Doctor materialised behind his right shoulder, making him jump. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."  
  
"Hi, Doc. Not exactly an emergency, but -" The newly-promoted Lieutenant Paris gestured to his throbbing eye.  
  
The holodoc raised an eyebrow and indicated he should sit on a bio-bed. "Walked into a wall, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Might as well've." Paris winced as the doctor efficiently and without gentleness probed the puffy, reddened skin. "Ensign Bronowski's built like a bulkhead."  
  
"Am I to understand that you have been . brawling?"  
  
"Ow!" Paris glared. "Take it easy, will you?"  
  
The Doctor gave him a sour look, selecting a dermal regenerator.  
  
"I wasn't brawling," Paris continued. "I guess Bronowski just didn't much like the look of my face."  
  
"So he thought he'd arrange you a new one?" The Doctor tapped his commbadge. "Sickbay to Bridge."  
  
"What are you doing?" asked Paris, alarmed.  
  
"Reporting this incident to the Captain."  
  
"No, don't -"  
  
~Chakotay here. What is it, Doctor?~  
  
"Mr Paris has just walked in here with an aggravated contusion of the optical cavity, Captain. It appears to have been the result of a -" he regarded the helmsman distastefully - "disagreement with another crewman. I assumed you'd want to know."  
  
There was a pause. ~Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate you keeping me informed. Please ask Mr Paris to report to my ready room as soon as you've finished with him.~  
  
"Oh, thanks a lot, Doc." Paris jumped off the bio-bed. "Can I go now?"  
  
"Certainly. I'm sure the Captain is expecting you." The Doctor smirked.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Come in."  
  
Paris stepped warily into the ready room. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"  
  
Chakotay sighed. "Take a seat, Mr Paris." He waited till the helmsman obeyed, then steepled his hands before him. "Want to tell me what happened?"  
  
Paris cleared his throat. "It wasn't a big deal, sir. Just a - misunderstanding."  
  
"Which was resolved by you volunteering your head as a punching bag?"  
  
"You should see the other guy," he joked feebly.  
  
Chakotay levelled his eyes at him. "Go on."  
  
"Captain -" he stopped. Tried again. "Sir, you know I'm not exactly popular with certain people on this ship. Okay, with anyone on this ship," he admitted. "The Maquis think I betrayed them to Starfleet to save my own hide, and the Starfleet crew hate me for defecting to the Maquis in the first place, and for - for Caldik Prime." He stumbled over the last, averting his gaze. Chakotay waited, and finally Paris looked up again. The despair in those blue eyes was unmistakable. "Sir, I'll always be grateful to you for what you've done for me. But I'm looking at spending the rest of my life with a shipful of enemies."  
  
"Who was it, Tom?"  
  
Tom balked. "I don't want to -"  
  
"Lieutenant ."  
  
"Ensign Bronowski, sir."  
  
Chakotay looked at him a moment longer, then nodded. "Chakotay to Janeway. Could I see you in my ready room, Commander?"  
  
Janeway unfolded herself from the big chair. "The bridge is yours, Lieutenant Tuvok." She headed for the ready room and punched the doorpad.  
  
"Come."  
  
Janeway stepped in. Two heads - one dark, one blond - raised at her entrance. She stiffened at the sight of Tom Paris. "Reporting as requested, Captain," she said neutrally. What the hell was this about?  
  
"Commander, we have a problem." Chakotay stood and ambled around to rest on the edge of his desk. "It seems that certain members of this crew have taken it upon themselves to . discipline Mr Paris. I'm sure you agree that this is unacceptable."  
  
Janeway looked closely at the pilot. His blond hair was mussed, and the faint redness around his eye was unmistakable. "One of mine, or one of yours?" she demanded.  
  
Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "If you insist on making that distinction, the crewman responsible was a Starfleet security officer. This time. Last time -"  
  
"Last time?"  
  
"- it was two of the former Maquis."  
  
Tom flushed. How the hell did Chakotay know about that? It'd happened in his quarters, and they'd been careful not to mark his face ...  
  
Janeway folded her arms. A pulse began to throb at her temple.  
  
"So," Chakotay continued calmly, "I am placing Mr Paris under your personal protection. Please see to it that every member of this crew is made aware of the penalty for assaulting an officer on this ship."  
  
Janeway's jaw dropped. "What?"  
  
"You heard me, Commander. I am asking you to ensure Tom's personal safety. I will not stand for the abuse of any member of my crew."  
  
Tom shrank under the weight of her glare. But as she stared at him, something changed; he could almost swore he read compassion in those blue- grey eyes. Janeway nodded. "Understood. Lieutenant Paris, I assure you this will never happen again."  
  
Chakotay returned to his seat. "See that it doesn't."  
  
Paris followed her onto the bridge.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Tom!" Harry Kim raced to catch up with the helmsman. "Where you headed?"  
  
"Mess hall." Paris' long legs ate up the deck.  
  
"Mind if I join you?"  
  
Paris glanced at him curiously. "Sure you want to be seen with me?"  
  
Harry sent him a dark look. "I told you before. I choose my own friends. Besides -" he hesitated. "I heard what happened. Seems like you could use all the friends you can get."  
  
"Ain't that the truth." Tom snorted. "Mind you, I'm not too sure that one of my newest . friends is too delighted at the prospect of getting to know me better."  
  
"Whaddya mean?"  
  
"Oh, never mind." The mess hall doors slid open and Tom and Harry stopped abruptly, gaping.  
  
"- make myself clear, Ensign?"  
  
Ensign Bronowski's face was rapidly turning the colour of an overripe tomato from the pressure of the hands around his neck. The tiny figure pinning him against the wall was rigid from the strain, her small hands barely able to circle the hefty crewman's throat, but it was clear, despite the difference in their size, who had the upper hand. It seemed he was trying to speak.  
  
"I can't hear you," she hissed.  
  
"Yes, Commander," gasped the big man, and sagged in relief as Janeway let him go. She turned away, rubbing her fingers. "Clean him up," she spat as Bronowski gingerly felt for his rasping windpipe.  
  
"Watch it!" Tom was shouldered aside by a pair of burly security officers, who stopped short as they entered the mess hall. One of them looked questioningly from the panting Bronowski to Commander Janeway, still taut with tension. "Sir, we had a report of a disturbance .?"  
  
"It's under control, thank you, crewman," she replied composedly, but her tone was belied by the slight shaking of her hands as she worked a fallen lock of hair into its pins. "Perhaps you could escort Mr Bronowski to sickbay."  
  
Tom Paris watched in disbelief as the near-unconscious ensign stumbled past him, leaning heavily on the two security officers. Janeway followed a moment later, shooting him a look he couldn't read.  
  
"Now what in the hell was that all about?" murmured Harry Kim.  
  
=/\=  
  
"I'm putting you on report." Chakotay's mouth was stiff with fury.  
  
Janeway shrugged. "You told me to deal with it. It's dealt with."  
  
"I'd have thought it obvious that your chosen method was inappropriate. For God's sake, Kathryn." He looked at her tiredly. "How is this crew ever supposed to settle in when you insist on behaving like a thug?"  
  
"It's the Maquis way."  
  
He wanted to slap that smirk off her beautiful face. "Are you going to fight me on this forever?"  
  
She laughed at him. "Go ahead and put me on report, Chakotay. In fact, why not put me in for a court-martial? When we get back home in, oh, seventy years or so, when you're done explaining to Starfleet Command why you deputised a bunch of wanted terrorists, maybe you and I can share a prison cell."  
  
"Kathryn ." The thrilling agony in his voice. She was suddenly ashamed, and turned to hide it. "Why are you acting like you don't care?"  
  
Because I care too much.  
  
"Am I dismissed, Captain?"  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dismissed, Commander."  
  
=/\=  
  
The bridge was silent, as it usually was when Chakotay was absent. The tense undercurrent subdued them all. There was none of Tom's easy banter with Harry or needling of Tuvok when Janeway was in the big chair.  
  
She was staring at him again. He could feel it in the prickling of his neck. Paris moved his shoulders uncomfortably, trying not to look. He looked.  
  
She wasn't looking at him at all. She was gazing at the viewscreen, and for the first time since he'd known her, her expression was unguarded. Soft. Was that moisture in her eyes?  
  
He'd never seen that softness in her before. Never seen her cry. Not even when she'd had to watch DeSoto suffer on the Liberty, her friend Aline DeSoto, whom they'd rescued from that Cardassian set-up on Salka IV. DeSoto's eyes had been removed - with what, he could only shudder to imagine - her tongue cut out, the soles of her feet burned and twisted. She'd died in pain in Janeway's arms. And Janeway hadn't cried.  
  
Tom watched her now, the bunched muscles of her jaw relaxed, her scowl wiped clean, her lips softened from their usual hard line. Blue topaz eyes. Skin like the palest orchid. Hair the colour of tiger's-eye.  
  
She was beautiful.  
  
He'd never realised it before. Of course, he'd noticed she was attractive. That small, hard body, bones like a bird's, deceptively frail. He'd seen a few men regret that assumption when her tough little fist laid them out on the deck. The big blue-grey eyes, the fine-featured face. The long silky hair - her only vanity. Oh, she was good-looking alright, and if she'd shown him the slightest interest as anything more than a pilot when she'd drafted him . well, Tom Paris had never been known to turn down an offer from a good-looking woman. But as he gazed at her now, she looked almost . angelic.  
  
"A holo-image might last longer, Mr Paris."  
  
That cool husky voice, at the edge of his hearing. She'd levelled her gaze at him. He flushed deeply, snapped his gaze back to the conn.  
  
He'd recognised that look in her eyes, before they hardened again. Seen it in his own.  
  
She was lonely. 


	2. Two

__________________ two __________________  
  
Stardate 48607.7  
  
"They're firing again!"  
  
"Forward phasers. Evasive maneuvers, Mr Paris! Give it all she's got." She grabbed for purchase as the ship rocked under another volley of torpedoes. Paris executed a textbook gamma sequence at full impulse. She heard Tuvok. "Their shields are down, Captain."  
  
"Target their warp core," yelled Janeway.  
  
"Belay that," Chakotay snapped. "Tuvok, target their weapons array and fire." He glared at her. "Forget who's Captain?"  
  
She turned to snarl at him. Tuvok broke in. "Their weapons systems are disabled. They are retreating."  
  
"Get us out of here, Lieutenant. Warp five. Mr Tuvok, damage report."  
  
She huffed into her chair as Tuvok listed the damaged systems. "Minor damage to the port array. Transporters and holodeck systems are down. No casualties. Repair teams are responding."  
  
Chakotay's eyes were furious, locked on hers. "Hardly cause to destroy their ship. Lieutenant Tuvok, you have the bridge. Commander Janeway, in my ready room. Now."  
  
Gritting her teeth, she followed. The doors had barely closed behind her before he started in. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"  
  
"Saving your ass. What did it look like?"  
  
"It looked like overkill. They had no real chance against us!"  
  
"They attacked us!"  
  
They were nose to nose. A vein pulsed in his forehead.  
  
"Their weapons were inferior. We could easily outrun them. There was no need to blow them out of the sky." His hands clenched into fists at his side.  
  
She snarled back up at him. "I deemed it necessary force, Captain. In case you hadn't noticed, we're all alone out here. They'll call for backup and you know it!"  
  
He wanted to shake her. "That's no excuse for destroying them! What's gotten into you?"  
  
"What's gotten into me?" She wanted to scream. "We're thousands of light years from home, we're being battered from all sides by Lodian warships, our dilithium supply is dwindling fast, we're running low on food supplies with no immediate hope of restocking the larder and you want to know what's wrong with me?" Kathryn bared her teeth at him. "You want to take the risk that the Lodians will come back after us? What are you? A Captain or a cretin?"  
  
He froze. Her words reverberated in the room. Her teeth clamped on her lower lip. I shouldn't have said that.  
  
"I'm sor -"  
  
"Sorry. Yes, of course." Chakotay's voice was dangerously quiet. "You're always sorry later, aren't you, Kathryn? Well, guess what. An apology wouldn't bring back that Lodian crew, had you fired on their warp core." She could see him struggling to control his fury. His mouth tightened and her gaze dropped involuntarily. Her lips parted. He thought she was about to speak and pressed his fingers to her mouth. "And you seem to have forgotten one more thing. I am the captain of this vessel and I will give the orders. Understood?"  
  
She couldn't speak.  
  
"Is that understood, Commander?"  
  
She moved her lips beneath his fingers. "Yes ... Yes, sir." She breathed.  
  
She saw it before he even felt it. Eyes darkening and changing. He snatched his hand away, stepped back from her, rubbing his fingers almost unconsciously. He cleared his throat. "Good. Dismissed."  
  
She exited the room on unsteady legs. Chakotay braced his arms against the desk. Damn that woman. She always could get to him. She always had.  
  
Damn her.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Commander! And how are you this evening?"  
  
"Fine," she said shortly.  
  
"What can I get you? We have a wonderful baked Rezorian lamb, a sauteed broccoli and Atiki tuber dish of which I'm particularly proud, and of course, leola root casserole -"  
  
"Coffee."  
  
"But you have to eat, Commander! You're getting terribly thin, if you don't mind me saying -"  
  
"I do mind," she barked, then relented. "I'm sorry, Neelix." Sorry. "That - broccoli thing will be fine."  
  
"Coming right up!" The little Talaxian beamed as he ladled something truly offensive on her plate. "Bon appetit, as Mr Paris might say."  
  
"Taking my name in vain, Neelix?" The boisterous helmsman appeared beside her. Kathryn tried not to sigh. "Excuse me," she muttered.  
  
She was trying not to grimace at the odor of the forkful raised to her mouth when Paris bounded over to her table. "Hey, Commander, mind if I join you?"  
  
"Yes, I mind -" She stopped. Breathed deeply. "Of course not, Mr Paris." She ground her teeth. "Please, have a seat."  
  
His grin was annoyingly irrepressible. "Is that as bad as it smells?"  
  
Janeway closed her mouth over the fork and chewed gingerly. "Worse."  
  
"Great." Tom Paris rolled his eyes. "If the Lodians don't kill us, Neelix's cooking will." He spooned up some of his own meal and sniffed at it, making a face. "Leola root. I swear it's some kind of divine punishment for all our sins."  
  
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Considering the magnitude and frequency of your sins, Mr Paris, I'm surprised you're not drowning in it."  
  
He flushed and she instantly regretted it. "Sorry. Shit." She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them he saw weariness and regret.  
  
"Hard day at the office, huh?" he said, and she was surprised by the sympathy in his voice.  
  
"I guess you could say that."  
  
Tom looked at her closely. "You know, Commander, you don't look so good. I mean," he said hastily as she gave him a sharp look, "you look tired and stressed. Do you ever -" he stopped, biting his lip.  
  
"Do I ever what?"  
  
"I don't know... relax, I guess. Get it out of your system. Do something fun."  
  
Fun. Yeah, right. "What did you have in mind?"  
  
That blinding grin was back. "Well, now that you mention it, I've designed this holoprogram ..."  
  
"That bar in Marseilles? I've heard about it."  
  
"... with a pool table -"  
  
"Pool?" She looked up, interested despite herself.  
  
"You play?"  
  
"Used to. In another lifetime." Kathryn fiddled with her fork, looking away again.  
  
"How about a game, then?"  
  
"What, now?"  
  
He shrugged and stood, holding out a hand. "It's gotta be better than leola root."  
  
=/\=  
  
"Used to play, huh." Tom looked disgusted. "What were you, Federation champion?"  
  
She laughed for what felt like the first time in months. "Nowhere near it. Just spent a lot of time in a lot of bars like this one. Like I said, another lifetime."  
  
"Well, you sure can beat the pants off me." His voice was silky.  
  
Was he... flirting? Kathryn glanced up sharply. He was leaning against the table, very close to her. Cool blue eyes, but his gaze was warm. Too warm. She stepped back. "Lieutenant -"  
  
"Tom." He was still looking. Smiling.  
  
"Whatever. This is inappropriate."  
  
"What, being thrashed at pool by my commanding officer? Sorry, I'll try to win next time."  
  
Was he laughing at her? Her mouth hardened. "Forget it. Thanks for the game." She tossed her cue on the table and turned to leave.  
  
"Commander!" There was apology in his voice. "I didn't mean any - disrespect. I just -"  
  
Kathryn turned back. Waited.  
  
"I just thought - you seemed lonely. I - know what it's like. I wanted to cheer you up. I'm sorry."  
  
To her bottomless horror she felt tears clouding her eyes. She blinked furiously. Tom stepped tentatively closer. "Commander?"  
  
She shook her head. She wanted to bolt for the door but she couldn't seem to move. And then she felt a gentle hand on her chin. Long fingers stroking her cheekbone, tracing the long-faded scar. When he spoke there was tenderness in his voice. "I guess it's been awhile since anyone was nice to you."  
  
That did it. She let out a strangled sob and his fingers froze momentarily. Then he was pulling her gently into the curve of his arms. Her cheek collided with his collarbone and he was warm, so warm against her and she couldn't hold it anymore. She cried.  
  
Hours or days later she quieted to the rhythm of his fingers stroking her back, tangling in her hair. Her mouth touching his throat. His breath tickling her ear. She wanted to run. She wanted to stay forever.  
  
"Are you okay?" he whispered.  
  
Tom Paris, for Christ's sake. Over-indulged Admiral's child. Ex-Starfleet. Ex-Maquis. Ex-con. Well, who was she to talk.  
  
She nodded. She shook her head. "I don't know."  
  
"It's alright." She closed her eyes; his voice was soothing. She felt the vibrations of speech in his chest. Felt his arms around her. Felt him trembling against her body. Pressing into her. She was pressing back.  
  
Janeway jerked away. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"  
  
He looked horrified. His cheeks burned, hands fluttering at his sides. "I'm sorry, I -"  
  
Her hair had loosened from its pins and he reached out without thinking to brush a lock away from her face. She leapt back as if burned. What the hell ...  
  
Tom took two steps backward and bumped into the pool table. "Oh Christ. Commander, I didn't mean ..." Didn't mean what? He tried not to look at her. Didn't mean to touch you. Couldn't help it.  
  
She was pinning her hair up haphazardly, trying to breathe. She had no idea what to say. She raised her eyes to him again. "Lieutenant, I think I should leave."  
  
Don't go.  
  
His blue eyes cooled, his long body uncurled, his mouth twisted. She watched him regaining his composure and wondered what the hell had happened to her own.  
  
"Aye, sir," he said with the faintest touch of insolence, and watched her unsteadily walking away. 


	3. Three

__________________ three __________________  
  
Stardate 48610.1  
  
~Torres to Bridge.~  
  
"Go ahead, Lieutenant."  
  
~I'm detecting traces of dilithium from an M-class planet approximately one point six light years from our position.~  
  
Chakotay tried not to grin with relief. "Inhabitants?"  
  
~Can't tell yet, sir, but -~  
  
"Sir, I'm picking up a small vessel on an intercept course," Kim interrupted. "Unknown signature. Should be in hailing range within three minutes."  
  
"Acknowledged. B'Elanna?"  
  
~I can't tell for sure, Captain, there's some kind of interference disrupting long-range scanners. Trying to remodulate.~  
  
"Keep me informed. Chakotay out." He turned. "Harry, what can you tell me about that ship?"  
  
"Uh -" Ensign Kim looked flustered. "Not much, sir. It looks like the same interference B'Elanna's detected is throwing off our sensors. Maybe it's their planet."  
  
"If that's the case, let's hope the natives are friendly. Hail them as soon as they come into range, Tuvok." Chakotay glanced at his executive officer. "Could be our lucky day."  
  
She didn't respond.  
  
She'd barely said a word since coming on shift. He leaned over a little. "Kathryn?" She turned, and he thought her eyes looked dead. "Are you alri -"  
  
"Captain, the ship is in range. Hailing now." Tuvok paused. "No response."  
  
"Hail them again. All subspace frequencies." Chakotay stood, trying to ignore his unease.  
  
"This is Captain Chakotay of the Federation starship Voyager. We are on a peaceful mission through this region of space -"  
  
~Greetings, Voyager!~ The viewscreen flickered to life as Chakotay was enthusiastically interrupted. On screen, a melee of small smiling humanoids blinked happily at him. Taken aback, he returned their smiles. "Hello," he said cautiously.  
  
~Welcome to Ruatan space,~ came the response. ~I am Zigan. How may we be of service?~  
  
Beginning to relax, Chakotay replied, "Well, now that you ask, we are in need of dilithium crystals for our warp drive, as well as several other supplies. If you would consider a trade -"  
  
~Consider it done!~ Chakotay thought Zigan's face might split if he smiled any wider.  
  
"That's - that's wonderful." For once Chakotay was at a loss for words. "Perhaps you'd like to beam over so we can discuss it?"  
  
~We thought you'd never ask!~ Zigan bounced in his chair and one of his companions clapped his hands delightedly. The viewscreen went black.  
  
Chakotay exchanged a raised eyebrow with Tuvok. "Lieutenant, transporter room one -"  
  
There was a sizzling yellow flash and twelve Ruatans materialised, giggling, on the bridge. Janeway jumped to her feet.  
  
"Oh now, no cause for alarm!" chirped the one Chakotay recognised as Zigan. "My apologies, Captain, we were in such a hurry to meet you that we quite forgot our manners."  
  
Chakotay motioned Tuvok and Ayala to re-holster their phasers. "I'm very pleased to meet you. Perhaps you'd like to step into the briefing room. Commander, Lieutenant -"  
  
"Lovely!" Zigan clapped his six-fingered hands. "But my crew is rather interested in a tour of this ship. What is your top speed? What's your anti- matter flow conversion rate? What's the range of your transporters? What's -"  
  
"Mr Zigan -" Chakotay interrupted, trying to hide his grin. "I'm sure Commander Janeway would be pleased to show your people around the ship while you and I discuss our trade agreement. Commander, perhaps you could take Lieutenant Paris with you. Tuvok, you're with me." He led Tuvok, Zigan and one of the other Ruatans into the briefing room.  
  
Janeway stared in dismay at the gaggle of boisterous Ruatans. Some were now marvelling at the size of the viewscreen, some peering over Kim's shoulder at the operations console, and one was poking at the helm controls. "Don't touch that!" Paris warned, more sharply than he'd intended. The little Ruatan leapt back and began to - to cry? Janeway blinked in disbelief.  
  
"Sorry," Paris said hastily. "I didn't mean to yell, but you were about to warp us right into your ship."  
  
"Oh. Oops." The Ruatan blinked its - her, Janeway decided - eyelashes at him, tears forgotten. She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress uncharitable thoughts concerning Paris and weeping females. "Lieutenant," she said evenly, "shall we?"  
  
"Of course, Commander." Paris stood and Seska slid into his place at the helm. "Uh - where to first?"  
  
Janeway considered it and smirked. "Engineering."  
  
"B'Elanna's going to love this," she heard Paris mutter sotto voce as they ushered their visitors into the turbolift.  
  
=/\=  
  
::You're a telepath!::  
  
Tuvok's face registered the Vulcan equivalent of surprise as Zigan spoke inside his mind. "That is correct," he replied aloud.  
  
"What's correct?" asked Chakotay.  
  
::The others are not?::  
  
Tuvok said stiffly, "Captain, it seems our guests have telepathic abilities. To answer your question, Mr Zigan, there are a number of species on board this ship. Some of us are telepathic. However, most are not, and will not be able to communicate with you in that manner."  
  
"How rude of me!" Zigan covered his eyes. "I beg your forgiveness. We shall speak aloud."  
  
Chakotay gestured him to a chair. "Mr Zigan, you mentioned before that we've entered Ruatan space. Can you tell us a little more about this region? We're a long way from home and have little knowledge of this quadrant."  
  
"We know, we know! We've heard all about your ship. The great Federation starship Voyager from the other side of the galaxy. How exciting for you, to explore the great unknown!"  
  
"I'm glad you agree," Chakotay grinned. "Where exactly is Ruata? How far does your territory reach?"  
  
"Our home planet isn't far from here," Zigan bubbled. "Your sensors probably detected it ."  
  
"If you are referring to the M-class planet one point six light years from this position, then they did," confirmed Tuvok. "However, they were unable to fully penetrate the atmospheric interference. We were able to detect traces of dilithium, but not humanoid life or any signs of a civilisation."  
  
"Sadly, we've found it necessary to develop cloaking technology in order to protect ourselves from more aggressive races." Zigan looked as if this actually caused him pain. "Our planetary sensor net can detect alien ships up to twenty-eight light years distant, and automatically suppresses our bio-signs. Our ships are equipped with similar technology. We can make a science vessel look to sensors like a hovercraft!"  
  
"Why would you wish to appear less powerful than you are?" Chakotay was genuinely intrigued.  
  
"It's a necessary, if distasteful, precaution, particularly in light of the Lodian and Numiri presence in this sector. And so far we have been successful in diverting the attentions of the Vidiians away from our planet. If we're to continue our association, we can extend the cloak to conceal your ship, so long as you remain in orbit of our planet."  
  
"And your space?"  
  
"Our territory is not large, but we have no desire to expand it. Conquest is not our way. We are explorers, like you, and wish only for peace and understanding of other races."  
  
"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," muttered Chakotay. "After the Kazon and the Vidiians we were beginning to wonder if we'd be fighting the whole way home."  
  
"Oh no!" Zigan answered brightly. "Of course, your troubles are far from over."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Zigan, shh!" The other Ruatan spoke for the first time. Chakotay turned. This one seemed older than the rest of the group. "I'm sorry, I don't think we were introduced -"  
  
"I am Orta, Zigan's advisor. It is our way to travel with an elder, to provide counsel when making first contact with a new species. You may have noticed our people are rather ... excitable."  
  
Chakotay hoped Tuvok's eyebrows would remain attached to his head.  
  
Orta continued, "Our people have a tendency to voice what should be left unspoken. We are not merely a telepathic species. We also have precognitive abilities."  
  
"You can see into the future?"  
  
"Yes, on a limited scale. Our visions are non-specific; we receive a collection of emotions and images rather than a clear linear understanding. Our prime directive forbids us from revealing future events to those of other races; however, as you can see, it is sometimes necessary to remind our younger members of that rule." Orta twinkled at them. "We mean no harm."  
  
Tuvok bowed a little. "We also follow a prime directive: a policy of non- aggression and non-interference. Perhaps our two cultures share other similarities."  
  
Zigan bounced on his chair. "I don't think it breaks our directive to tell you that I foresee a mutually beneficial acquaintance between our peoples."  
  
=/\=  
  
"You have to be kidding!"  
  
"Oh come on, B'Elanna. They're kinda cute, aren't they? So enthusiastic and ... uh -" Paris trailed off as the half-Klingon's dark eyes flashed with ire.  
  
"Enthusiastic? Try incredibly annoying! That little squirt just uncoupled the magneton relays in Jeffries tube 17. I spent four hours recalibrating them this morning! Now get them the hell out of my engineering room before I disembowel them with a hyperspanner!"  
  
"Lieutenant Torres, is there a problem?" Janeway folded her arms.  
  
"Uh, no, Commander, it's just -"  
  
"Good." She stalked away.  
  
Torres glared after her. "What's up with her?" she muttered.  
  
"Leave her alone."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said leave her alone. Why are you so hard on her?"  
  
Torres gaped at him. "I - what are you talking about, Paris?"  
  
"Everybody treats her like she's some hard-assed bitch."  
  
"That's because she is."  
  
"So you think it's easy for her, giving up command of her ship and crew and toeing the Starfleet line under Chakotay's command? You think she's living it up out here in the Delta quadrant while all her Maquis friends are dying like flies back home? You think -"  
  
"Hey!" B'Elanna stepped up to him, toe to toe. "In case you've conveniently forgotten, those are my Maquis friends as well. I was on her ship, Tom, I was a member of her crew! I know what it's like to be stuck out here, helpless, knowing that every day my friends are fighting the Cardassians and I can't do a damn thing to help them -"  
  
"So show a little compassion sometimes, okay? She's not some heartless automaton, despite what everyone on this ship seems to think." He glared at her for a moment longer and then stomped away.  
  
B'Elanna stared at Tom's retreating back. "Now what the hell is up with him?"  
  
=/\=  
  
"Commander, wait!"  
  
She didn't break stride, and Paris had to run to catch up with her. "What is it, Lieutenant?"  
  
He gulped for breath. "I asked Neelix to collect the Ruatans from Engineering and take them to the mess hall. I figured his ... exuberant personality would be more their style." He grinned sideways at her, but she didn't crack a smile.  
  
He tried again. "Commander, about the other night ..."  
  
Janeway sent him a humourless look. "Forget it, Lieutenant."  
  
"I'd rather not forget it, sir."  
  
"Then consider that an order," she snapped. They reached the turbolift and she waited impatiently for the doors to open.  
  
"Commander, please -" Tom sighed. The turbolift arrived and he followed her in. "Deck one," she barked. They stood in silence on opposite sides of the lift and Tom mentally counted down the decks. Ten ... nine ... Was she ever going to talk to him again? Eight ... seven ... It was now or never.  
  
"Commander, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what happened. I don't want you to feel - ill at ease around me."  
  
Five ... four ...  
  
"And I wanted you to know that if you ever need a ..." a what? A friend? "... uh, a pool partner, I'm here. I know you outrank me and I ... behaved like an idiot and hey, you probably don't even like me anyway, but ... the offer stands."  
  
Three ... two ... one. The doors opened onto the bridge.  
  
She looked at him and he saw a shadow of the woman he'd seen in Sandrine's. She opened her mouth to speak and stopped. And then she smiled.  
  
It wasn't the radiant, open smile he'd have wished for. It was small and unsure and it wavered almost instantly. But it was there, and he wasn't prepared for the hot double-thump in his throat at the sight of it.  
  
Then she stepped onto the bridge and it was gone altogether. "Take your station, Lieutenant," she said coolly, and he followed her order.  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay led Zigan, Orta and Tuvok back onto the bridge. "Lieutenant Paris, lay in a course for the M-class planet we detected earlier. As soon as Mr Zigan and his crew are back on board their ship we'll be following them to Ruata to continue our association." He smiled around at the bridge crew. "Looks like we've earned ourselves some shore leave."  
  
Tuvok addressed the Ruatans dryly. "Shall I escort you to our transporter room, or would you prefer your own means of departure?"  
  
Zigan gurgled with laughter. "Again, I apologise for our ... enthusiasm. Actually, I'd quite like to see your transporter technology. And, Mr Tuvok ..."  
  
"Yes, Mr Zigan?"  
  
"Could we communicate telepathically on the way? We find it quite tiring to speak aloud for long periods of time."  
  
Nobody heard Tuvok's response. 


	4. Four

__________________ four __________________  
  
Stardate 48611.6  
  
Kathryn came to an abrupt halt outside Holodeck 2. What the hell am I doing here?  
  
Looking for a friend. She snorted. Who needed friends? Friends got themselves killed, or tortured, or were unmasked as traitors. So much for Tuvok, her navigator on the Liberty, who'd been a Starfleet spy all along. Had me fooled. After almost six months, it still rankled.  
  
So much for Chakotay.  
  
She brushed it aside. Friends. If she had to choose one on this ship, it wouldn't be Tom Paris. She leant against the wall. She should just get out of here. Go back to her quarters, where no-one would bother her. Where no- one would expect anything of her.  
  
She heard footsteps.  
  
"Commander!"  
  
Oh Christ. Ensign Eager. "Mr Kim," she said smartly, and made to push past him.  
  
"Were you waiting for the holodeck, sir?"  
  
"No, Ensign. Carry on."  
  
Harry Kim shrugged and entered the holodeck. "Weird," he muttered.  
  
"What's weird?" Paris was studying the configuration of the balls on the pool table with a concentration he normally reserved for evasive maneuvers.  
  
"Commander Janeway. I just saw her hanging around outside the holodeck, but when I asked her if she'd booked it, she just kind of - ran away."  
  
Tom threw down his cue and bolted for the door.  
  
She heard him coming and tried to duck round a corner, but he was too quick. "Hey, Commander - wanna shoot some pool?" He skidded to a halt before her, grinning. Janeway groaned inwardly. This was not her day.  
  
"No, Lieutenant, I'm busy."  
  
"Then why were you waiting outside the holodeck?"  
  
Damn you, Harry Kim. "I thought I might try a new, uh, rock-climbing program."  
  
"Really? I went through the database yesterday and didn't see any new climbing programs." He folded his arms. His eyes were very blue. She felt a headache creeping at the base of her neck.  
  
"Martial arts, then." Why was she stammering?  
  
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Only martial arts program I know of is B'Elanna's Klingon torture chamber. That what you're after?"  
  
"I -"  
  
~Chakotay to Janeway.~  
  
She slapped her commbadge in relief. "Janeway here."  
  
~Could you come to my ready room, please.~  
  
"On my way." She left without a backward glance.  
  
Tom Paris was getting used to the sight of her walking away from him.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Come in," he called from the sofa as the door chimed.  
  
Janeway stood at attention just inside the doorway.  
  
"Have a seat, Kathryn." He gestured. She perched warily on the edge of the sofa, as far from him as she could get.  
  
"I need you to prepare a list of the supplies we need and anything we can use to trade with the Ruatans. B'Elanna tells me dilithium's not the only thing Engineering's crying out for, and I think even Neelix is getting sick of leola root. Ask Kes to help you with the list of medical requirements."  
  
"Won't the Doctor have a better idea?"  
  
"He's experiencing some fluctuations in his imaging processor. I've taken him offline so Harry and B'Elanna can repair it."  
  
"Right." She stood.  
  
"Sit down, Kathryn."  
  
She sat.  
  
"The Ruatans have generously offered our crew free run of their planet for shore leave. I'd like you to draw up a roster. Even when we get the dilithium, it's going to take a few days to adapt it to Voyager's systems. I'm planning on remaining in orbit for about a week."  
  
"Yes, sir." She stood.  
  
"Sit down, Kathryn."  
  
She sat.  
  
"I want you to make sure everybody gets at least a couple of days off." He put down the PADD he'd been holding and looked at her seriously. "Especially my First Officer."  
  
Her face shut down. "Is there a problem, Captain?"  
  
Chakotay sighed. "Frankly, yes." He stood and headed for the replicator. "I've got some credits saved. Coffee?"  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Two coffees, black, extra strong." The drinks shimmered into life (white china cups, she noted wryly, not the standard squat black polymer; well, they took their indulgences where they could find them in the Delta quadrant) and he brought them over, sitting next to her on the sofa. "Here."  
  
She took it, careful not to touch his fingers. "What's the problem, sir?"  
  
How could such a big man look so right holding the fragile cup? She watched as he sipped. Grace and power. She'd never seen the combination look so ... right.  
  
"You're not happy, Kate."  
  
She jerked, and hot coffee slopped into the saucer. "What?"  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"Fine. I didn't splash myself."  
  
"I'm not talking about the coffee."  
  
She placed her cup deliberately on the table by her side. "Then what are you talking about ... sir?"  
  
Chakotay put his cup down as well. "I'm talking about a First Officer who barely speaks on duty. Who makes no friends among the crew. Who rarely visits the holodeck, rarely eats in the mess hall ... who in fact, as far as I know, rarely eats at all. A First Officer who might as well be a ghost, for all she talks to anybody. Kate, I never see you smile." He gave her a gentle look. "I remember when you used to smile a lot."  
  
She spoke through stiff lips. "That was a long time ago, sir."  
  
He rubbed a hand through his hair. "And that's another thing. Sir? We're not on the bridge now. What happened to calling me Chakotay? What happened to our friendship? What happened to your stubbornness, your willingness to stand up to me, to fight for what you thought was right? What happened ... what happened to us, Kate?"  
  
For a moment she was silent. And then she was shaking, more angry than she could ever remember being.  
  
"What happened to us?" she hissed. "There is no us, Captain. There is no fighting for what's right. There is no friendship anymore. You killed all that the day you made me your First Officer."  
  
She watched the colour leaching from his skin.  
  
"There's no point in standing up to you," she went on, trembling. "When it comes down to it, you're the captain and I'm the First Officer. Your decisions will always, always overrule mine. You forced me to join this Starfleet crew. Forced me to subjugate my personal beliefs. Forced me to report to you and take your orders. And don't even try to suggest that I could have turned you down. You had the power, even out here, to keep me in your brig for the rest of my life, and my crew along with me. And a captain does not abandon her crew. I had no choice, Chakotay!"  
  
He looked as though she'd struck him. She turned away, trying to hide her shaking hands.  
  
"No choice," he repeated softly. Her head shot up.  
  
"Familiar words." Chakotay's voice was quiet. "I seem to recall using those very words myself. The day I made you my First Officer."  
  
Kathryn had nothing to say.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me this before?"  
  
"What would be the point," she said quietly.  
  
"Oh, Kate." It was almost a groan. "The point is that I care about you. Maybe more than -" He stopped. "The point is, I've known you for twelve years. We've been friends for a long, long time. If I thought I'd thrown all that away ..."  
  
"Friends," she repeated bitterly. "I thought so, too. Until we ended up here, and I found out you'd taken the assignment to find me. I suppose Starfleet Command knew all about our ... friendship. How lucky for them that they had a gung-ho captain who knew just how to find Janeway the Maquis traitor. How unlucky for you that you'll probably spend the rest of your life on this ship with the friend you betrayed."  
  
Chakotay's throat hurt. "Kathryn. Why can't you see? I was doing what I thought was right. I was standing up for what I believe in. Just like you were, when you joined the Maquis."  
  
She whirled to face him. "I would never betray a friend!"  
  
"But you did, Kathryn." He was looking at her so tenderly. She couldn't bear it. "On Stardate 46998.3. You used my access codes to steal the Liberty from Utopia Planetia."  
  
Her eyes widened in shock.  
  
"You thought I didn't know?" He laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. "I knew. I knew the moment the alarm went out. That ship was a prototype, Kathryn, and I was responsible for it. Only I, two admirals and the security chief on duty knew the codes. Do you have any idea how much trouble that got me in?"  
  
Her face was hot.  
  
"I almost got court-martialled. It was only Admiral Paris' intervention that saved me. Starfleet Security were all for hauling me away on the spot, but Owen made them give me a chance to find the evidence. The evidence that you'd broken into my apartment that morning, that you'd hacked into the database. You were careful, but I knew."  
  
"Oh God," she said involuntarily. "I thought - I was careful. I wore an EVA suit, for God's sake. Put it on as soon as I was inside your apartment. I thought that any trace of my being there could be explained because I'd been there the night before. I thought - I never thought -"  
  
"I know," Chakotay said. "I know. But the virus you implanted in the computer to cover your tracks ..."  
  
"The Al-Batani."  
  
Years ago. She'd been Ensign Janeway then, a science officer. Her first posting, and Chakotay's second. He was a junior pilot, a couple of years older, a couple of years wiser. Firm friends from the day he swung into Astrometrics and asked her to help him plot a course through the Bhironi system. I need your help, he'd cajoled. An away mission. And then he'd dimpled at her, and she lost herself in those dark brown eyes and knew she'd do anything he asked of her.  
  
She went with him on that away mission, and it wasn't the last. It wasn't the last thing they did together by any means. They'd become the ship's practical jokers, good-humoredly tolerated by the mostly older crew, detested by Lieutenant O'Day, the Al-Batani's chief tactical officer, indulged by their captain, Owen Paris. They'd hacked into O'Day's tactical simulations and altered the phasers to spit out paint instead of energy pulses. They'd reconfigured the ship's food replicators to produce only mashed potatoes and gravy, no matter what was requested. And they'd developed their own signature: somewhere hidden in every prank, like a graffito's tag, could be found the pattern of the Bhironi solar system.  
  
It wasn't the last thing they'd shared. But it was the first, and she'd always remembered it. So nine years ago, when Chakotay had won his promotion to Lieutenant Commander and left the Al-Batani for a posting on the Federation flagship, she'd kept the memory close, and adopted that graffito's tag as her own. And the virus - the virus she'd installed in Chakotay's database when she stole the codes to the USS Liberty - it had scrambled the computer's command pathways into a repeating pattern. The astrometric pattern of the Bhironi star system.  
  
Perhaps, somehow, she'd wanted to be caught. She'd wanted him to know.  
  
She pushed her hands into her hair. "Chakotay, I don't know what to say."  
  
"Well, there's a first time for everything."  
  
She whipped around to face him. He was smiling. Against her will, the corners of her mouth curled up. "Smartass," she commented.  
  
"I'm in good company." His dimples deepened. Kathryn's mouth twitched. And then she laughed. And winced, grabbing the base of her skull.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Headache," she said shortly.  
  
"Shall I take you to Sickbay?"  
  
"God, no." She rubbed fiercely at the knots along her shoulders. "I just need to work this tension out."  
  
"Let me." He turned her away from him, moved her hands away from her neck. She shot him a look over her shoulder. "Don't worry," he chastised. "I remember how."  
  
And he did. His hands were magic. She'd said that to him once, back on the Al-Batani, when he'd soothed the beginnings of a migraine. He'd told her off for not reporting to sickbay, and then admitted there were better ways of curing a headache than an analgesic spray. She'd teased him, called him nature boy and medicine man. But the touch of his hands had left her feeling more alive than any hypospray.  
  
The touch of his hands. She closed her eyes, feeling the months of tension draining from her muscles as he began the slow small circles, pressing deep into her flesh. "You're wound up tighter than a plasma coil," he murmured, and his breath sent tiny shivers along her nape. Prickles along her skin.  
  
She sighed. "That feels so good."  
  
Chakotay's fingers stilled. The last time he'd rubbed her neck ... He shut the memory down. Concentrated on working out the deep tension in her shoulders. The feel of her fragile bones beneath his hands. The scent of her hair.  
  
He was suddenly, achingly hard.  
  
She heard his soft groan. Felt the melting response, deep in her core. The softening of muscles throughout her whole body. His touch was no longer therapeutic. He was caressing her skin.  
  
Don't stop.  
  
He bent his head, pressed his mouth to her nape. Let the tip of his tongue trace the first knob of her spine. She was trembling. He could feel it. His hands slipped downward, tracing the outline of her shoulderblades. She arched her back and he heard her exhale.  
  
"Kate."  
  
She opened her eyes. His lips touched her ear.  
  
"Kate, turn around. Look at me."  
  
She turned. He cradled her head in his hands, thumbs tracing her cheekbones. His mouth inches from hers. He was so close ...  
  
~Tuvok to Captain Chakotay.~  
  
So close.  
  
A nanobeat of silence, and then Kathryn wrenched away. Chakotay swallowed. She was on the other side of the room before he was able to speak.  
  
"Chakotay here."  
  
~The Ruatans are hailing us, sir.~  
  
Oh Christ. "I'm on my way. Chakotay out. I'm sorry," turning to her. "You have no idea how sorry."  
  
She cleared her throat. "Better let me go. I can handle the Ruatans. You -"  
  
Was she smirking?  
  
"- should do something about that first."  
  
She met his eye, straight-faced. "After all, it wouldn't do for the senior representative of the Federation to address a Delta quadrant ambassador ... with a hard-on."  
  
He was still speechless as the doors swished shut behind her. 


	5. Five

__________________ five __________________  
  
Stardate 48613.4  
  
"Starfleet."  
  
"Maquis." Harry Kim fell into step beside her. "End of shift?"  
  
"Yup, only four hours late." Torres looked tired, shoulders hunched. "Remind me why I agreed to be Chief Engineer."  
  
"To put Carey's nose out of joint?"  
  
B'Elanna snorted back a laugh. "I broke it in three places. How much more out of joint could it get?"  
  
Harry grinned. Six months ago she'd have snarled at him for even alluding to the subject. "Where you headed?"  
  
"Mess hall. I could eat a Ktarian prairie dog. But I guess I'll have to make do with Neelix's house specialty. You hungry?"  
  
"Not that hungry, but I'd kill for a milkshake. Mind if I join you?"  
  
"A milkshake?" Torres repeated derisively. "How old are you, Harry?"  
  
"Hey." He flushed. "Healthy teeth, healthy bones."  
  
"Whatever. Aren't you scared Neelix'll serve you Talaxian yak's milk?"  
  
"I have replicator rations saved," Kim returned a touch pompously.  
  
"You always do. I don't know how you manage it. Not doing special favours for our Captain, are you?" Her tone made it clear what kind of favours she meant.  
  
"B'Elanna ...!"  
  
"Oh, loosen your stays, Starfleet," she smirked. "You're too easy to shock. Anyway, the Captain's as straight-laced as you. I'll bet the thought of fraternisation never enters his head."  
  
"Of course not! Captain Chakotay would never abuse his position by becoming personally involved with a member of his crew. It would be a contravention of accepted onboard interpersonal protocols."  
  
Incredulous, the half-Klingon turned to deliver another choicely phrased taunt, when she saw the compressed lips, the laughter in his eyes. "Okay. Got me," she admitted grudgingly.  
  
Harry replicated his milkshake and followed B'Elanna to a table. She poked at her meal in distaste. "I don't even want to know what this used to be."  
  
"When are you scheduled to go planetside?"  
  
"Tomorrow, if I can get away from Engineering. I get one system fixed and the next one goes down. Not to mention the problems I'm having with the Doctor's holomatrix. How 'bout you?"  
  
"Tomorrow. You know, we're all supposed to take shore leave. Captain's orders." Kim felt suddenly shy. "Tom told me the Ruatans are throwing a party at the leisure centre tomorrow night. Want to come with me?"  
  
"Hell, no." She shuddered. "Those Ruatans give me the creeps. They're so - cheerful."  
  
"Oh."  
  
B'Elanna caught the disappointment. "I was thinking of taking a hike. The dilithium we detected is in some caves in the northern hemisphere. I could take a good look, maybe get started on mining it, if the Ruatans give us permission."  
  
Harry brightened. "I heard those caves are filled with a species of firefly. They're supposed to be spectacular at night. Thousands of tiny lights moving in the dark, like stars at warp."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you wouldn't mind tagging along." Her tone was abrupt, as always, but he grasped the implicit invitation and smiled.  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
=/\=  
  
"You've scheduled my shore leave for the next two days."  
  
"That's right," she answered. She nodded to Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim as Chakotay escorted her into the mess hall.  
  
"And you're not on leave till the day I come back to duty."  
  
"As First Officer, I am aware of the potential consequences of both top- ranking officers being absent from the vessel for an extended period. I am following standard procedures to ensure the safety of ship and crew."  
  
"The ship's not scheduled to leave orbit for six days."  
  
She looked at him evenly. "It would be against Starfleet regulations for the captain and executive officer to be on leave from the ship simultaneously outside Federation space."  
  
Oh, clever Kate. "Regulation 9B, sub-section 12, paragraph A." Chakotay injected amused approval into his voice. "Did you have to look it up?"  
  
Janeway gave him a sour look for form's sake.  
  
She hadn't rubbed his nose in it. Nicely done, Commander. Chakotay nodded to Neelix to fill up his plate. "So, what will you do on your vacation?"  
  
"Endeavour to smile, sir."  
  
He recoiled a little at the blank malice in her reply. So it was going to be like that. Push me, pull me. Push me away. He spoke without thinking. "When did you get to be so cold?"  
  
"Fuck you." So did she.  
  
He met her eyes, saw the flash of chagrin quickly masked by defiance. They parted ways. Chakotay sat with B'Elanna and Harry. Janeway sat alone.  
  
Well, until Tom Paris came in.  
  
He came in alert, kept his back near the wall, scanned the room with one quick glance. The ex-prisoner's habitual wariness. She knew it well; she walked into rooms the same way. Always know your enemy. Always keep him in your sight.  
  
She was in his sight. That trademark white grin split his face and she caught her breath suddenly. She hadn't realised.  
  
He's luminous.  
  
She ducked her head instantly. From the corner of her eye she saw Harry beckon him, saw Tom's wave of apology. "Hello, Lieutenant," she said neutrally. "Please, do sit down. I'm sure you were going to anyway."  
  
"I don't want to disturb you ..." he began. He held out a PADD. "I'm supposed to give you my flight plan."  
  
Flight plan? Oh - the away mission to the neighbouring Banean system; Zigan had arranged for them to acquire badly-needed plasma injector coils on the Banean homeworld. The shuttle was scheduled to leave in four days' time. Get with it, Kathryn. She studied the PADD. "Looks fine, Lieutenant. Who's leading the team?"  
  
"You are, Commander. The captain'll be meeting with one of the Ruatan traders to try to get us some tripolymer composite to reinforce the secondary plasma conduits."  
  
"Okay." She pressed her thumb down. "Well, are you going to sit down, or keep blocking my light?"  
  
She could swear there was something in his eyes. Triumph? Satisfaction? Attraction? "I'll just go get a plate."  
  
Janeway saw Torres watching her. Looking at Paris. Back to Janeway. She arched an eyebrow at the engineer. Now, what were those Klingon senses detecting? Torres met her gaze with an arching brow of her own.  
  
If this were the Liberty, they might share a grin, an acknowledgment of their mutual interest in the man in question -  
  
Kathryn Janeway flushed. Oh, no. Not now. Not Tom Paris -  
  
" - looked like the most edible choice ... Commander?"  
  
"What?" She jumped. "Sorry, Lieutenant, I was thinking about the away mission. What do we know about the Baneans?" There, well recovered.  
  
"Apparently friendly," he said, and she knew she hadn't fooled him a bit, "but they're at conflict with their neighbours, the Numiri. We're to avoid Numiri ships if at all possible." He chewed. "Hey, this isn't that bad."  
  
Stuck on a shuttle with Tom Paris. Two days on a shuttle watching everything she said. Two days with a man who could see through her like a cheap holonovel. Janeway could hardly wait.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Thrusters are online," Tom announced. "Initiating flight sequence now."  
  
"All systems nominal," reported Janeway.  
  
"Cochrane to Voyager, we're clear. See you in a couple of days." That's it, flyboy, keep it cool. You're a professional.  
  
~Acknowledged, Cochrane, good luck. Voyager out.~  
  
Paris kept his eyes on the helm controls. Janeway programmed a diagnostic sweep of the sensor array for activation once they'd jumped to warp, brought out a PADD and started studying the Banean trade laws.  
  
Paris cleared his throat. "So, Commander. Know how to fly one of these things?"  
  
She gave him a dark look.  
  
"Hey, I was only asking."  
  
"Did you know the answer?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"Then why ask." She returned to the PADD.  
  
Okay then. Paris shut up.  
  
Not for long.  
  
"So ... did you enjoy your shore leave?"  
  
"It was fine." Impatiently.  
  
Tom's fingers danced over the console. Janeway flicked her gaze away. "What did you do?"  
  
Janeway sighed. "Are you really interested, Mr Paris, or are you simply unable to be quiet?"  
  
Ouch. He stole a glance at her. Ice hard. Untouchable. Hair pulled up into one of those complicated coils whose mechanics baffled him. Just enough makeup to provide a mask. "You don't talk much, do you?"  
  
She could tell he was unnerved. The Paris charm had probably never failed to work before.  
  
"Evidently, you talk enough for both of us."  
  
Damn, she could twist that knife. "Sorry," he muttered stiffly, and clamped his mouth shut. They endured the remainder of the flight in uneasy silence, bar the occasional status report.  
  
"We're about to enter orbit," Paris said finally. Janeway tucked the PADD away. "Hail them." The viewscreen showed a imposing humanoid, his forehead scored with whorls and curving ridges.  
  
~This is Science Minister Kray. Your shuttle is cleared for landing at the following coordinates.~  
  
The screen went blank and the computer chirped as the landing coordinates were fed through. "Talkative bunch," observed Paris, his tone deceptively mild. "You and the Baneans should get along just fine, Commander."  
  
She bared her teeth at him. "Just land the shuttle, Lieutenant."  
  
"Aye, sir." There was a certain satisfaction in getting in the last word, Tom thought as he guided the shuttle smoothly onto the landing pad. Knowing that he'd rattled her composure as she'd rattled his.  
  
The shuttle hatch opened onto blinding sunlight and Paris couldn't help raising his face to the warmth as he stepped out. Minister Kray inclined his head. "Commander Janeway, I hope you didn't have any trouble with the Numiri."  
  
"Uh, no, sir, we didn't. Actually, I'm Lieutenant Paris. This is Commander Janeway." He stepped back respectfully, curious to see how these aliens reacted to Janeway's abruptness. Wondered if she'd ruffle their feathers as she did his own.  
  
She walked elegantly down the ramp and offered the minister her hand. Her lips curved in a smile and her tone was relaxed. "Minister, it's so kind of you to meet with us. We've heard a little about your planet from the Ruatans, but they didn't mention quite how striking it is." She turned her head regally, scanning the surrounds. As far as Paris could see, it was just a collection of squat white buildings in a sterile compound. The surrounding mountains were dark-grey and forbidding. He tried to keep his expression neutral. She'd surprised him yet again.  
  
Minister Kray's formal posture unbent a little and he even allowed himself a small smile. "I understand you've arranged to trade a quantity of energy converters for several plasma coils. We have arranged for you to meet with Professor Ren, our leading engineering physicist. If you'll follow me, please."  
  
Well, of course she could play the diplomat when she chose to, Paris chided himself as he followed the now-chatting pair across the square. She had been a high-ranking Starfleet officer till a couple of years ago, and you didn't make it to the command ranks without developing some negotiating tactics along the way. It probably came as naturally to her as the rather ... heavy-handed style she'd employed in the Maquis. He grinned involuntarily, remembering Janeway's don't-fuck-with-me attitude during the brief time he'd piloted the Liberty. A certain Ferengi DaiMon would never again make the mistake of offering to trade weapons with a human female in exchange for oo-max.  
  
He played the part of respectful junior officer while Janeway, Kray and the physicist, Ren, began the bargaining process. It was like a dance, he thought, and she knew the steps well. Subtly, weaving a web of light flattery and wit, interspersed with the occasional display of her prodigious technical understanding, she shifted the balance so that by the time the arrangement was defined, they'd moved from outsiders to valued trading partners. Ren was almost begging her to take the injector coils off his hands by the end. "Commander Janeway, I must say, it's been a pleasure meeting you, and your crewman of course," Ren added somewhat hastily. "My wife and I would be honoured if the two of you would join us for a meal before you return to your shuttle."  
  
She graciously accepted, pressed her thumb onto the PADD containing the trade agreement and held it out to Ren to do the same. "How kind, Professor. We'd be delighted."  
  
"Then it's settled." Ren turned to Kray for a quick word and Janeway glanced at Paris, faintly amused. "Don't look so shocked, Lieutenant," she said coolly. "I can talk when talking is required."  
  
Paris could have sworn the Commander shot him a wink as she linked her arm through Ren's. 


	6. Six

__________________ six __________________  
  
Stardate 48616.2  
  
"Kes?"  
  
"Over here, Lieutenant." Kes emerged from the Doctor's office. "How are the repairs going?"  
  
"They're not." Torres was in a foul mood. "I've reconfigured his imaging processor twice to no effect, and I'm still having problems with his vocal subroutines. Looks like you're stuck playing doctor for a little while longer."  
  
"Oh, I don't mind." The little Ocampan's smile was as sunny as ever. "I'm learning so much. The Doctor gave me some fascinating texts on comparative alien physiology and neurology, and I've recently started studying inter- species mating processes. Did you know that the Algolian fertility cycle parallels the cycles of their moon, and that the circular depressions on their cranial surface are an erogenous zone? Or that the Dolbargi can self- induce a meditative state which enables them to maintain orgasm for up to twelve hours at a stretch? And in Klingon mating rituals ..." She tailed off as the engineer held up her hand to halt the flow of information.  
  
"Thank you, Kes." B'Elanna moved to the console in the centre of the room and started keying in commands. "Well, it's a good thing you're learning fast, because frankly I don't know how long it'll be till I can get the Doctor properly activated again. Better pray we don't have any medical emergencies."  
  
Kes watched curiously over Torres' shoulder. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm realigning the holographic imaging emitters throughout Sickbay. I've already scanned them for a problem and come up negative, but then the Doctor's program seems to be virus-free as well. I just can't -" Frustrated, she thumped the panel.  
  
"Please state the nature of the - hello?"  
  
Kes jumped. B'Elanna whirled. "Where are you, Doctor?"  
  
"I don't know!" Could a hologram panic?  
  
Kes peered into the Doctor's office. "He's here, Lieutenant ... but I think there's something wrong."  
  
"Of course there is." Torres tamped down her frustration. "Let's take a look at you, Doctor - oh." She pulled a tricorder from her belt.  
  
"What's happened to me?" The Doctor sounded terrified. "I can't see!"  
  
"Your visual subroutines must be malfunctioning," B'Elanna said tactfully.  
  
"What does that mean!"  
  
"It means you have no eyes," she snapped.  
  
He squawked. "How am I supposed to practice medicine if I'm unable to see my patients? You must fix me, Lieutenant!"  
  
Kes laid a soothing hand on his holographic arm. "Don't worry, Doctor. Lieutenant Torres is doing everything she can."  
  
"Kes ..." He gripped her hand like a drowning man. "Thank heavens you're here. How long have I been offline? Have you been able to manage without me? Is there any estimate on how long I might remain sightless? This is an unacceptable situation, Miss Torres!"  
  
"Looks like the Doctor's vocal subroutines are working just fine now, Lieutenant." Kes tried to keep the laughter from her voice.  
  
"I think I liked him better before," muttered B'Elanna.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Captain, I've been working on the Doctor's program for eighteen hours straight. I've had Carey and Nicoletti running diagnostics on everything from the sickbay emitters to the holodecks. I've got Tuvok scanning subspace for photonic interference. I've tried everything I can think of. As soon as I correct one malfunction, another appears, and I can't work out why!" Torres' fatigue got the better of her and she slumped in her chair.  
  
"Relax, B'Elanna." Chakotay's chocolate voice unwound a little of the creeping tension in her shoulders. "I know getting the Doctor back online is high priority, but I think for now the higher priority is for you to get some rest. After all, we don't want you ending up in sickbay, do we?" He grinned.  
  
Torres smiled back reluctantly.  
  
Chakotay stood. "Go to bed, Lieutenant. Get some sleep. Carey can take over for now, and I'll assign Harry to give you a hand tomorrow." He guided her to the ready room door. "I don't want to see you back on duty until 1100 hours, is that understood?"  
  
"Understood, sir. And - thanks."  
  
He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her leave. Torres, Hogan, Ayala, Jonas, Tabor - all the former Maquis - they were pulling it together; working hard, making friends, upholding Starfleet rules and regulations. All of them, except their former captain.  
  
Maybe he should have asked Torres to stay. Kim had told him the story of B'Elanna's initiation into the Maquis. A Gallamite trader in a seedy bar on Bajor had taken a liking to B'Elanna and hadn't taken kindly to her method of refusal. When his crewmates attempted to force the issue, Janeway and Ayala had come to her rescue. Finding that their new friend was not only an engineering genius but alone, adrift and looking for a fight, they'd wasted no time inviting her to join the Liberty crew. He knew Torres was fiercely protective of the brave, stubborn woman who'd saved her. He wondered if Janeway had unbent enough to take the engineer into her confidence, or if she kept her at arm's length as she did everyone else. If Torres could help him get through to his First Officer -  
  
Chakotay shook his head. Nothing was guaranteed to foster uncertainty amongst a crew faster than a captain caught spying on his XO. And in their particular circumstances the last thing they could afford was more uncertainty. No matter how little he liked it, the Janeway Problem rested solely on his shoulders.  
  
Or did it?  
  
There was one person he might ask. One who had no ties to either Starfleet or the Maquis. One whose tranquillity and intuition had worked their gentle magic throughout the crew. Was it so unreasonable to suppose they might have worked on Kathryn as well?  
  
He touched his commbadge. "Chakotay to Kes."  
  
~Yes, Captain?~  
  
"If you're not busy, could you come to my ready room? I'd like to discuss something with you."  
  
~Right away, Captain. Kes out.~  
  
She arrived barely three minutes later, a slight flush on her pale, pretty face. "I didn't mean for you to run all the way here," Chakotay grinned. "I hope I didn't take you away from anything important."  
  
Kes caught her breath. "No, Captain, I was just processing some blood samples; they can wait. I've left Ensign Seska in charge of Sickbay. But your call sounded urgent."  
  
"Not really," he repeated, surprised.  
  
She looked at him calmly. "Perhaps not, Captain. But something is troubling you. How can I help?"  
  
"Telepaths," he muttered good-naturedly. "You're right, of course. I am concerned about something. I don't know if you can help me. I don't even know if I have the right to ask you -" He stopped. "Why are you smiling?"  
  
"Sorry, Captain." Kes folded her hands in her lap. "I'll help you in any way I can."  
  
"Right, right." Chakotay was uncharacteristically flustered. Even Tuvok's enigmatic countenance rarely affected him this way; he felt like a nervous schoolboy explaining himself to a teacher. Except she was a tiny slip of a thing, barely eighteen months old, and he was a starship captain. Get ahold of yourself. He stopped pacing and sat next to her on the couch.  
  
"Here it is, then. I'd like to hear your thoughts on how the crew is faring. Particularly, whether you feel that the former Maquis are settling in well."  
  
She looked thoughtful. "I haven't heard any real complaints, Captain. In the beginning, I know some of the Maquis were finding it difficult to adjust to their different routines, but that doesn't seem to be the case any longer. The incidents with Lieutenant Paris ..." She paused. "I think he was having a hard time for a while, but Commander Janeway's ... intervention appears to have defused the situation."  
  
Despite himself, Chakotay leaned forward at the mention of her name. Kes continued non-committally, "The Commander does have a ... unique way of doing things."  
  
"That she does." Chakotay's tone was equally unemotional. He waited.  
  
"You know -" Kes lowered her eyelashes "- Commander Janeway speaks very highly of you."  
  
She couldn't have surprised him more if she'd informed him that a Romulan warbird had just decloaked off their starboard bow. Chakotay blinked at her. "She does?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Kes' smile was impish. "She told me that she would rather serve with you than anybody else in Starfleet."  
  
Chakotay couldn't help it. "I'm not sure that's a compliment, Kes. She doesn't have a very high opinion of Starfleet."  
  
"She disagrees with the Federation-Cardassian peace treaty, sir, not with the principles on which Starfleet was founded. And I don't believe it was a compliment; more a statement of absolute fact."  
  
"Really," Chakotay said faintly. "And ... when did she tell you all this?"  
  
"When she was helping me in the airponics bay, sir. Commander Janeway has quite a talent for botany."  
  
"I see." He had no idea what to say.  
  
"She also told me that she trusts you more than anyone else alive."  
  
He was stunned.  
  
"Are you alright, Captain?" Kes was leaning forward, apparently concerned, but she couldn't help the twitch of her lips.  
  
"Are you laughing at me?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Kes' smile grew. "I'm just not used to seeing you at a loss for words, Captain. Should I not have repeated what the Commander told me?"  
  
He was still grasping for coherent thought. "No, Kes, it's not that. I was just ... surprised. But thank you." He smiled at her. "Thank you for telling me."  
  
=/\=  
  
Tom Paris was decidedly ill at ease.  
  
It wasn't that he felt uncomfortable around Professor Ren; although the scientist's attention was centred on Commander Janeway, he was perfectly cordial to the helmsman. It wasn't even Janeway herself, this time; she appeared to have decided that for one night only, the presence of Lieutenant Paris was to be tolerated with good humour. He was grateful for the ceasefire, even if he suspected it was for the Baneans' benefit.  
  
No, the problem was Ren's wife. Lidell.  
  
From the moment she'd uncurled herself from the sofa and slinked past him to fetch drinks for her guests, Lidell Ren had been practising seduction on him. And she wasn't hiding the fact. She was frosty to Janeway, indifferent to her husband; but to Tom Paris, she was downright inviting. And the problem was, this was one invitation he'd love to accept.  
  
He was beginning to sweat.  
  
Half an hour ago, she'd maneuvered him into the kitchen with some story of a platter in a too-high cupboard. As he handed her the dish, she leant forward and kissed him. He smelled jasmine, and felt cool hair brush against his hand. She breathed, "Thank you," into his mouth. Then she waited for him to kiss her again.  
  
Another time, another place, he might have. He was no saint, and he'd always taken his opportunities where he could find them. But this was wrong.  
  
He squirmed away from her, stammering some excuse, and fled back to the drawing room. Janeway and Ren were gone.  
  
"Oh, they'll be down in the lab," Lidell Ren said casually, draping herself in the doorway. "Tolen always takes the science types down there. Thinks they'll be impressed." She gave a tinkling laugh. "Somehow I don't think you're the impressionable type."  
  
Paris coughed. "Uh, Mrs Ren, maybe I should go to the lab ..."  
  
"Sure." She feigned disinterest. "I'll show you the way."  
  
Halfway down the hall she turned and placed a hand on his chest, snaked the other around his neck, and brought him close to her lips. "Or I could show you something better," she murmured, and he was lost. 


	7. Seven

__________________ seven __________________  
  
Stardate 48617.8  
  
~Cochrane to Voyager. Voyager, respond!~  
  
He almost didn't recognise her voice, its habitual huskiness now a strained rasp. But he could recognise the panic she was trying to control. This was not good. Chakotay's hands tightened on the armrests. "We're receiving you, Cochrane. What's your status?"  
  
~The Numiri attacked us as we were leaving orbit of Banea. We've taken heavy damage.~  
  
She coughed wrenchingly and the sound made his jaw clench. He heard her suck in a hoarse breath.  
  
~Shields are down. Warp engines are failing. The Numiri are pursuing. I can't outrun them much longer.~  
  
The commline crackled. "Commander?" Chakotay was out of his chair.  
  
~I'm here. Lieutenant Paris is severely injured. How soon can you be in range? He needs urgent medical atten-~  
  
Captain Chakotay heard the unmistakable sizzle of an exploding console before the shuttle's commline was severed. He began barking orders. "Red alert. Seska, take us out of orbit and lay in a course for the shuttle at maximum warp. Tuvok, ready all weapons. Kim, as soon as we're in range I want you to beam them both to Sickbay. Tell Kes to prepare for casualties and to try reactivating the Doctor."  
  
There was a chorus of "Aye, sirs" and Chakotay paced the bridge, eyes fixed on the viewscreen, straining to see past the streaking stars. He heard Kim. "We're in range, sir. Transporting now ... Janeway and Paris are in Sickbay."  
  
He nodded shortly. "Tuvok?"  
  
"There are two Numiri warships approaching our position, Captain. Time to intercept, thirty seconds."  
  
How the hell had the shuttlecraft survived an attack by two warships? "Can you retrieve the shuttle?"  
  
"Tractoring it into the shuttlebay now, sir."  
  
"Get us out of here."  
  
Seska's fingers flew over the conn. Tuvok said calmly, "The Numiri are not pursuing."  
  
"Stand down red alert. Take us on an indirect route to the far side of the Ruatan planet. Hail them and ask them to extend their cloak around Voyager. Tuvok, you have the bridge. I'll be in Sickbay. Seska, you're with me." Batehart slid into Seska's place as she hurried to catch up with Chakotay.  
  
Miraculously, the EMH was online and bending over a bio-bed. Kes was dashing back and forth, carrying laser scalpels and other equipment Chakotay couldn't identify in response to the Doctor's commands. Seska positioned herself at the medical station, studying the readings on the monitor. Chakotay scanned the room: two still figures in adjacent beds. "Doctor, what's their condition?" he demanded.  
  
"Not good," snapped the EMH, "and it will only get worse if you distract me."  
  
Ignoring him, Chakotay moved to the bio-bed over which the Doctor and Kes were labouring. In a triage situation, treat the more severely injured patient first. He hoped to God it wasn't Kathryn.  
  
It was Tom Paris, lying pale and unnaturally still. A cortical monitor was attached to the base of his skull. Chakotay checked the readings on the bio- bed monitor. He was no medic, but he could recognise a sluggish heartbeat, and he was quite certain normal brainwave readings didn't spike so irregularly. "What's wrong with him?"  
  
"He has multiple contusions, three broken ribs, a punctured lung and a severe concussion, and I can't identify the cause of this strange brainwave activity," the EMH rattled off. "But he'll live."  
  
"Chakotay."  
  
He hardly heard her voice, it was so weak. She was barely conscious, the skin of her face, hands and torso burned and blistered. He moved to her side, taking one singed hand carefully in both of his own. "Don't talk, Kate."  
  
As usual, she disobeyed. "How's Tom?"  
  
"He'll be fine. And so will you." He watched her eyes roll back in her head, heard the warning beeps from the surgical console above her bed. "Doctor!"  
  
The EMH was already moving. "She's going into shock. Give me a cortical stimulator!" Ensign Seska bolted over to the bed and slapped the instrument into his hand. "Captain, please move to the other side of the surgical bay." The Doctor didn't bother to disguise his irritation. "I can't treat her properly if you're in the way."  
  
Chakotay took two steps backward. "What happened to her?" He tried to keep his voice controlled, but he couldn't help clenching his fists.  
  
Kes answered him from the other side of Paris' bed. "It looks like the helm console in the shuttle exploded; she has third-degree burns to her hands, face and chest. She also has a fractured wrist, damaged kidneys and a bruised trachea. Captain, some of their injuries were caused by physical attacks."  
  
Chakotay heard a strange sound and realised it was his teeth grinding.  
  
"Kes, I need you!" and the little Ocampan scurried over to the Doctor's side. Chakotay watched. The Doctor's hands were almost a blur, his expression intense as he bent over Janeway's body, occasionally barking instructions; Kes and Seska anticipated his needs and had the correct instruments ready before he even called for them. It was a graceful dance, and, thankfully, a rewarding one. The Doctor straightened up, and his voice was gentler now that the crisis had passed. He looked up at Chakotay. "Her condition is stable, but it will take some time for her to recover. I'd like to keep her in Sickbay for at least twenty-four hours and confined to quarters for a day or so after that, but I expect she'll want to return to duty as soon as she regains consciousness."  
  
Chakotay nodded, swallowing past the scratching in his throat. "When do you think that might be?" He was mildly surprised to find that his voice sounded relatively normal.  
  
"In about four hours, but I want her to stay here overnight."  
  
"When can I talk to her?"  
  
"I'll let you know."  
  
"And Paris?"  
  
"Will be out of action for the next forty-eight hours. I'm concerned about those unusual neural readings. He was briefly conscious when they were beamed in here, and he appeared to be delirious. I've given him a mild sedative." The Doctor began running a dermal regenerator over the burns on Janeway's chest. "I'll inform you when Commander Janeway is fit for consultation."  
  
"You'll let me know of any change in their condition?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Chakotay stood a moment longer, looking. Kathryn's uniform was all but burned away along the left side of her torso; the skin underneath was blackened and ragged, healing slowly under the Doctor's ministrations. He watched the pink new skin forming along her collarbone and turned away.  
  
=/\=  
  
Tuvok was speaking to Zigan over the viewscreen as Chakotay re-entered the bridge. "How awful," the Ruatan was gabbling. "Of course, of course, we're extending our cloak now. Are your crewmen alright?"  
  
"They will be," Chakotay interjected, stepping down to the command level. "Zigan, I wonder if you could shed a little light on the Numiri? Is it likely that they'd attack with no provocation?"  
  
"Oh dear, yes, I'm afraid so. The Numiri have been blockading Banea for several years now. They tend to attack anyone who approaches the planet, whether for trade or military purposes. They've been unsuccessful in overtaking the planet, however; the Baneans have superior technology, although they're not an aggressive race."  
  
"What are the Numiri's intentions?"  
  
"Revenge. They claim the Baneans introduced a lethal virus into one of the Numiri colonies nine years ago. It decimated the population. The Baneans insist -"  
  
~Kes to Captain Chakotay.~  
  
She sounded distressed and he instantly feared the worst. Kathryn?  
  
"What is it, Kes?"  
  
~Captain, the Doctor's program just went offline again.~  
  
"Understood," he said wearily. The last thing we need... "Are Commander Janeway and Lieutenant Paris in immediate need of the Doctor's care?"  
  
~No, sir, they're both stable, but I could use an extra pair of hands. Could you spare Ensign Seska for a while?~  
  
"Of course. I'll send Lieutenant Torres to you so she can try to reactivate the Doctor." He motioned to Tuvok to comm Torres, and turned back to the viewscreen.  
  
Zigan was looking perplexed. "Did you just say you were going to ... reactivate your doctor?"  
  
"That's right. He's a hologram."  
  
"He's a what?"  
  
"A hologram. He is a projection of photons and forcefields, programmed with the Federation's entire medical database. We lost our original doctor when this ship was pulled into the Delta quadrant."  
  
"And was your original doctor a ... hologram as well?"  
  
"No, he was human, like me." Chakotay smiled impatiently.  
  
"Interesting," Zigan said faintly. It was perhaps the shortest sentence Chakotay had ever heard him utter.  
  
"Mr Zigan, I'd be happy to show you our holographic technology at a later date, but in the meantime -"  
  
"Oh yes, of course, the Numiri. Where was I? Ah - the war. Yes, it seems a Banean trader was establishing contact with a Numiri outpost neighboring their space, and somehow managed to infect the colonists with a virus he was carrying. It appears that the virus was relatively harmless to the Banean race, but devastating to the Numiri. It caused a complete metabolic collapse in eighty percent of the colony's population. The Baneans insist it was a terrible accident; the Numiri are equally insistent that it was a form of biological warfare. They have been unable to develop a vaccine for the disease. That colony was the only one affected; it was permanently quarantined and the Numiri have since dedicated themselves to taking revenge on the Baneans. It's terribly sad."  
  
"Indeed. Have the Baneans considered developing a vaccine themselves, and giving it to the Numiri?"  
  
"They offered, but the Numiri saw it as a further attempt to destroy them. The two cultures have been at war ever since." Zigan shook his head.  
  
"Well," Chakotay sighed, "if we ever get our Doctor back up and running, he may be able to develop a vaccine himself." =/\=  
  
Pain.  
  
At first there were images, disjointed, frightening, surreal. A boot planted in her lower back. Hands grabbing her throat. Her wrist, snapping.  
  
Then the pain.  
  
More images, and this time there were sounds. Her breath rasping in her lungs, the thud and grunt of a fist on flesh, the heaviness of an arm around her shoulder, the weight of a body. Her fingers, flying over the console. The computer's dispassionate warning. Bright jolts of sizzling light. The shuttle rocking under phaser fire. An ugly face on the viewscreen. Golden hair threaded through her fingers.  
  
And feelings. The booted foot; the pain again. Fear, white-hot and familiar. Hard anger, her constant companion, clearing her head. His beautiful face, bloodless. His twisted mouth, his bewildered eyes, the words he spoke that made no sense. Her fingers in his hair. Her terror and despair. Her understanding that he might die.  
  
Screaming, she bolted upright.  
  
"Commander!" Kes came racing out of the Doctor's office, Ensign Seska following hard on her heels. Janeway launched herself from the bed. "Where is he," she managed. Her throat hurt.  
  
Somehow, Kes understood. "Lieutenant Paris is right here," she soothed, taking Janeway's arm.  
  
She led Janeway to the other bio-bed. "See? He's sedated."  
  
Janeway started to reach out, then dropped her hand. He was so pale. She shut her face down. "Is he alright?" She sounded as though she didn't care.  
  
Kes knew better. "He'll recover from his injuries."  
  
"What about the neural implant?" Her voice was sharp. "Has it been removed?"  
  
"Neural implant?" Kes went wide-eyed. She let go of Janeway's arm and and picked up a medical tricorder. "We didn't detect an implant. That might be what's causing the spikes in his brainwaves ..."  
  
Janeway could tell Kes was no longer talking to her. She made to tap her commbadge and connected with the still-tender flesh of her chest. "Get Chakotay down here," she snapped, turning to Seska. "I need to speak to him."  
  
=/\=  
  
"Professor Ren and I were in his lab for several hours," she began, her voice still strained. "We got caught up talking about a project he was working on, a new way of converting termanite - a common Banean mineral - for use in their warp engines. They already use it as an energy source but it's difficult to refine, leaves a lot of waste product. He'd developed a way to purify and stabilise the waste matter. Spinning straw into gold, he called it." She coughed, her fingers unconsciously stroking her throat. Tuvok handed her a glass of water.  
  
"I suppose Lieutenant Paris was with Ren's wife, Lidell. I didn't trust her." Janeway's mouth hardened. "I should never have left them alone."  
  
"Go on," prompted Chakotay when she stopped.  
  
"Everything seemed fine at first," she continued. "I collected Paris and we returned to the shuttle. He was a little quiet, but I wasn't complaining."  
  
Chakotay smiled.  
  
"In the morning, we traded the energy converters for the plasma injector coils, talked to Minister Kray for a while, and went back to the Rens' for lunch. It was strange. Mrs Ren had spent the previous evening flirting with Lieutenant Paris, but at lunch she barely looked at him. And Paris was barely eating - he looked pale, and said he had a headache. The Professor was called away just after we finished eating, and Mrs Ren accompanied us back to the shuttle. That's when they jumped us."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Two Baneans. They came from either side as we entered the shuttle. They were big, and they were aiming to hurt us. One of them grabbed me by the throat and threw me across the shuttle. I must have hit my head, blacked out for a minute." She was speaking in a monotone, as though reading him a report. Chakotay kept his face calm.  
  
"When I came around they were both going for Paris. He was down, and one of them was kicking him in the ribs. He tried to get up and the other one slammed his head on the floor. The first one yelled at him, told him not to damage the neural implant. They were distracted for a second, and Paris kicked the legs out from under one of them. I managed to land a few punches on the other, before he knocked me to the ground and started kicking me low on my back. It was close quarters, there were tools at hand, so I grabbed a hyperspanner and socked him. I think I got him in the gut. I got my feet under me and charged him. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it; it must have broken, but I had the momentum and he fell backward down the shuttle ramp and landed badly. I think I heard a bone snap."  
  
For the first time she allowed an expression to cross her face. Chakotay thought it was pleasure.  
  
Tuvok asked, "Was Mrs Ren still present at the time you regained consciousness?"  
  
"No." Janeway snorted. "She turned tail the moment those two thugs appeared."  
  
"And you heard nothing more about this neural implant from your attackers?"  
  
"We were all a little busy for conversation, Tuvok."  
  
He nodded. "Please continue."  
  
"Paris was taking a beating, so I used the hyperspanner to smack the other Banean across the back of his head. It knocked him out. We pushed him out of the shuttle, sealed the hatch and powered up. Paris was at the helm. I was too distracted to notice at first, but when he tried to go to impulse without retracting the landing struts I realised there was something wrong. I looked over at him and he was white as a sheet, covered in sweat. I told him to let me fly. He just looked at me and started babbling incoherently. Then he pitched forward, out of his chair, and passed out."  
  
She took in a shuddering breath. "I got us through the atmosphere and set a course back to Voyager, then tried to check him over. His bio-readings were so erratic I thought he was going to die. We'd barely left orbit before we were attacked by the two Numiri ships. I had to leave him ..." She clamped her lower lip between her teeth. "I had to take the helm. The shuttle's faster and much more maneuverable than those warships. They got in a few hits before I managed to evade them and go to warp, but they pursued. Masking the shuttle's ion trail put them off the scent for a minute or two, but I couldn't - I didn't have time to treat him. I didn't even know what was wrong. I don't know who implanted that thing in his brain, I don't even know what it's for ..." She was biting her lip so hard she'd drawn blood.  
  
Chakotay placed his hand over hers. "You did exactly what you should have done, Kathryn. Now I want you to rest."  
  
"Wait a minute," she snapped. "What are you going to do about this neural implant? The Doctor's offline. How the hell are we supposed to figure out what it's for? How do we get rid of it? Who put it in there?"  
  
Finally Tuvok spoke. "I may be able to begin an investigation into this incident, based on the information Commander Janeway has supplied."  
  
"I thought you might," Chakotay said drily. "Where will you start?"  
  
"With Mrs Ren," he replied. 


	8. Eight

__________________ eight __________________  
  
Stardate 48619.2  
  
Somebody was kissing him.  
  
Warm dry mouth, pressed against his own; the first touch of a tongue exploring his lips. The cool brush of hair against his hand. He smelled jasmine, heard a tinkling laugh. She broke away. "Let me make you some tea," she murmured, and he followed the swish of her skirt.  
  
Tom Paris jerked awake.  
  
There was a face hovering above him, a woman's face. Strong features, shadowed eyes, wide mouth; Bajoran ridges on the nose. "Seska," he said involuntarily.  
  
"Relax, Lieutenant; you've been unconscious for fourteen hours." He felt the hiss of a hypospray against his neck and his mind began to clear.  
  
"Were you just kissing me?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Seska raised an eyebrow. "I most certainly was not, Lieutenant. I don't make a habit of molesting my patients."  
  
Tom flushed, struggling to sit upright. "Where's the Doctor?"  
  
"Still offline. I'm covering for Kes while she's at dinner." Seska straightened, and tapped her commbadge. "Seska to Captain Chakotay."  
  
~Go ahead.~  
  
"Lieutenant Paris is awake, sir."  
  
~On my way.~  
  
Tom grabbed her wrist before Seska could move away from his bed. "What happened to me? Where's Commander Janeway?"  
  
Seska looked down at his fingers in distaste. "Please remove your hand, Lieutenant."  
  
His grip tightened. She pulled against it without success; he was stronger than he had any right to be in his current condition. "Tell me, Ensign," he warned.  
  
"Commander Janeway returned to her quarters ten hours ago," she answered stiffly, "despite the Doctor ordering her to remain in Sickbay overnight. As for what happened to you, I'm sure the Captain will fill you in. Excuse me." She wrenched her arm away, lip curling.  
  
Tom Paris looked at her properly for perhaps the first time. "You don't like me very much, do you, Seska?" The knowledge made him curious; nothing more.  
  
"Like you?" The Bajoran faced him. "Mr Paris, you killed three Starfleet officers with your stunt at Caldik Prime. You betrayed your Maquis shipmates to Starfleet for a get-out-of-jail-free card - and don't look at me like that. I may be a Starfleet officer but I'm also Bajoran. Some of my friends and family joined the Maquis. And on a more personal note, you usurped my rightful position as chief conn officer when Lieutenant Stadi was killed. So, no. I don't trust you, and I don't like you very much either. Sir."  
  
She was pleased to note the hollowness in his eyes before she turned away.  
  
The Sickbay doors slid open. "Report," Chakotay ordered briskly. Seska's face was carefully blank as she listed Paris' vital signs. Paris watched disinterestedly; the captain's demeanour was purely business, nodding impatiently, asking questions, Seska's a mask of helpful obedience. Until she finished, and Chakotay turned away, and the mask slipped briefly, and for an instant her face was naked.  
  
She wants him, Paris realised.  
  
Now, that was interesting.  
  
"Tom?" Chakotay was quirking an eyebrow at him. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Sorry, Captain." He snapped to attention. "I feel fine, except for this headache."  
  
Chakotay rested one solid thigh on the edge of the bed. "Commander Janeway gave us a run-down of the attack. She said one of the Baneans mentioned that you had a neural implant. Can you shed any light?"  
  
Tom's brow furrowed. "Neural implant? No, sir. I don't remember anything about that."  
  
"Well, maybe you can fill in some other blanks for us. Can you tell us what happened the night you and the Commander had dinner with the Rens?"  
  
He tapped long fingers absently on the sheet, remembering. "We finished the trade," he began, "went back to the Rens', ate. After dinner Professor Ren and Commander Janeway went to his lab. They were in there - it seemed like forever."  
  
"What were you doing?"  
  
"I was -" He flushed. "I was with Mrs Ren."  
  
Oh no. Chakotay didn't like where this was going. "Go on."  
  
"Nothing happened," he said hastily. "Well - nothing much. At least, I don't think it did ..." He pulled himself together. "Mrs Ren asked me to help her get a dish from a cupboard in the kitchen, and when we returned to the dining room the Professor and Commander Janeway had gone to the lab. I said I should probably go with them. Mrs Ren, uh ..."  
  
"Mrs Ren what?"  
  
"She kissed me."  
  
Chakotay sighed. "I see. And then what?"  
  
Now Paris really did look perplexed. He rubbed his forehead, trying to concentrate. "Well, I remember her making tea. We went into the conservatory and we talked for awhile. She was telling me about her childhood, and then -" He scratched at his forehead. "Sir, the next thing I really remember is walking back to the shuttle with the commander. I guess Mrs Ren and I just talked for a couple of hours, but - I can't really remember anything much about it. I'm sorry."  
  
The Captain frowned. "That's it?"  
  
"That's it." Paris stifled a yawn.  
  
Chakotay noticed. "Alright, Tom. Lieutenant Tuvok has gone to investigate; he should be on Banea by now, so we should have some answers soon. Get some sleep." He patted the helmsman's shoulder and turned to leave.  
  
"Captain." Paris' voice was slurred, struggling against fatigue. "Is Commander Janeway alright?"  
  
There was something in his voice that Chakotay couldn't quite identify. "Yes, Lieutenant," he stressed the title deliberately, "Commander Janeway is quite well. Now rest."  
  
Seska's dark eyes followed him as he walked out of Sickbay.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Captain, we're receiving a subspace communication from Lieutenant Tuvok."  
  
"Put it through to my ready room, Harry. You have the bridge."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry said delightedly to Chakotay's back.  
  
Chakotay turned the monitor toward him, settling behind his desk. "Report, Tuvok?"  
  
Tuvok's dark eyes regarded him from the small viewscreen. "I have spoken with Mrs Ren. She claims that Lieutenant Paris made sexual overtures toward her, which she rejected. She also claims she did not recognise the two men who attacked Commander Janeway and Lieutenant Paris at the shuttle."  
  
"I take it you don't believe her."  
  
"I am reserving judgment pending further information, but suffice to say I did not find her story completely credible."  
  
Damn Vulcans. "What else?" Chakotay asked impatiently.  
  
"I have spoken with the Banean security force. It seems there was a witness to the events at the shuttle. An attendant at the shuttleport was in the vicinity when the attack occurred; he notified security, who apprehended one of the perpetrators, a Mr Carron. He is in custody and will be interviewed shortly. I intend to be present at that interview."  
  
"Good. Check in again when the interview's over, okay?"  
  
"Aye, Captain." The screen went blank.  
  
Chakotay leaned back, tapping his fingers. Nothing to do now but wait. Tuvok wouldn't report in for another few hours at best; Torres still couldn't work out what was wrong with the Doctor's program; Janeway - he hoped - was sleeping and probably couldn't shed any more light on the strange Banean situation anyway. He rolled his neck and felt the cracking of tense joints; with most of the senior officers out of commission, he'd pulled a double shift and was well into a third. He felt stale and stupid. A few hours' sleep would do him the world of good, and Kim was perfectly capable of manning the bridge while they were in cloaked orbit around Ruata. Chakotay hauled himself up and headed back to the bridge.  
  
Harry Kim leapt from the big chair like a guilty child. "Captain on the bridge!"  
  
"At ease." Chakotay tried not to grin. "Ensign Kim, I'm going off duty. As the senior bridge officer, I'm putting you in command til I return. I want you to let me know as soon as Lieutenant Tuvok contacts us. Oh, and try to keep Voyager from falling apart, okay?"  
  
Kim's eyes shone. "I'll do my best, Captain. Sleep well."  
  
Chakotay let the grin appear as the turbolift doors slid shut. By the time he returned to duty, Kim would probably have the Banean case solved, the Doctor back at peak efficiency and the bulkheads scrubbed to a shine. He'd really have to put the kid in charge more often.  
  
=/\=  
  
~Baxter to Ensign Kim.~  
  
"Kim here."  
  
~I've just tried to run my gym program on Holodeck 2 and it seems to be malfunctioning. Could you come take a look?~  
  
"I'm taking the command shift, Lieutenant." He tried to sound as though Chakotay left him in command every day. "I'll send Ashmore down for you."  
  
~Acknowledged, Captain.~ The grin in Baxter's voice came through clearly.  
  
Harry nodded to Ensign Ashmore, clearly bored at the Ops station, and commed Lieutenant Torres. "B'Elanna, Baxter just reported problems with Holodeck 2. I thought you'd like to keep tabs in case there's any relation to the EMH malfunctions. Any progress on those, by the way?"  
  
~No,~ snapped Torres after a short pause. ~When did the holodeck problems start?~  
  
Kim tapped the console next to the command chair. "They've only just been reported, but nobody's used either holodeck for three days. I've sent Ashmore down to check it out."  
  
~Fine, I'll tell her to keep me informed. Torres out.~  
  
Harry settled himself more comfortably in the big chair, watching the infinitesimal progress of the planet on the viewscreen. Voyager's orbit had her currently positioned right above the dilithium caves he and B'Elanna had explored a few days ago. The Ruatan fireflies had been every bit as magical as he'd hoped; even pragmatic, blasé B'Elanna had been awed. In the silence of the cave, as tiny sparks of indigo and pink and gold winked into existence all around them, she'd reached for his hand, needing contact to ground her amid the ethereal display.  
  
~Ashmore to Ensign Kim.~  
  
Harry jumped, glad Ashmore couldn't see his reddened cheeks. "Go ahead?"  
  
~Sir, it looks like the holodecks are experiencing the same malfunctions as the EMH. When I try to activate a holoprogram, parts of it start to destabilise. It looks like there's some kind of energy field interfering with the holomatrix, but I can't tell what, or where it's coming from.~  
  
"Have you informed Lieutenant Torres?"  
  
~Yes sir, she's on her way to the holodeck.~  
  
Kim told her to keep him posted and cut the connection. He glanced over at Batehart, half-asleep at the conn; at ever-silent Ayala, manning the tactical station. The bridge was dull as dishwater without its senior officers. Dynamic Chakotay, trading quips with mercurial Paris while Tuvok radiated Vulcan aloofness; and enigmatic Janeway, whose truculence could scare Ensign Kim into cowering at his station, hoping not to attract her disapproval, and whose lighter moods could encourage the Captain's magnetic grin and cause colour to rise on Paris' pale skin. Harry tapped idly on the arm of the command chair, recalling Paris bolting from the holodeck to chase after the Commander. He recalled as well his own relentless teasing of Paris afterwards. "She's not your usual type, Tom," he'd kidded, his curiosity fully engaged when Paris refused to be drawn. "I thought you liked girls like the Delaneys . all that fresh, sweet naughtiness?" Still Harry's needling had gone unrewarded, and, piqued, he'd punched his friend lightly on the arm and said, "Besides, I get the feeling you'd have some serious competition. But if you like a challenge ."  
  
It wasn't until he saw the blue flash of anger in Tom's eyes, so quickly hidden it was barely there, that Harry realised his teasing had found its target. More than that, he was suddenly reminded of the steel backbone behind Tom's cocky flyboy persona. Harry had clamped his mouth shut. This man who was now his best friend had survived horrors a fresh-minted Starfleet Academy graduate could barely conceive of, and survived; he might play the part of the joker, but the real Tom Paris was hidden behind walls and layers and veils, and who knew what parts of him he kept concealed? Harry had tried to ask, but Tom wasn't telling.  
  
"Incoming subspace message for the Captain," Ayala informed him, his voice sounding rusty from disuse. "It's Lieutenant Tuvok."  
  
Harry checked the chronometer; the Captain would have had maybe five hours' sleep, but he had said to alert him as soon as Tuvok contacted the ship. "Ensign Kim to Captain Chakotay," he said tentatively.  
  
There was a brief pause, then Chakotay answered, sounding wide awake. ~Yes, Ensign?~  
  
"Mr Tuvok is on subspace for you. Shall I put him through to your quarters?"  
  
~No, it's alright. I'll be in my ready room in just a minute. Chakotay out.~  
  
He'd been so tired he'd fallen on the bedcovers in his uniform pants and turtleneck. Chakotay rubbed at the sleep creases on his cheek, pulling on his jacket as he boarded the turbolift. "Deck one," he yawned, voice flooded with the fatigue he'd kept at bay when Kim called him. The lift halted and he stumbled into the ready room. "Kim, you can put Tuvok through now."  
  
The terminal on his desk came to life. "News, Tuvok?"  
  
~Yes, Captain. Mr Carron has confessed that he and the other Banean who attacked Commander Janeway and Lieutenant Paris were hired by a Doctor Valen, who is employed by the Banean Ministry of Health. Doctor Valen has also been questioned. Although reticent at first, he has admitted that he and Mrs Ren conspired to sedate Mr Paris and install a communications device in his brain which would be disguised as false memory engrams. It was designed so that Mr Paris would believe he had become enamoured of Mrs Ren, and been rebuffed by her, while Professor Ren and Commander Janeway were otherwise engaged.~  
  
"To what end?" Chakotay was baffled.  
  
~Their plan, it seems, was to use Lieutenant Paris to carry information on Professor Ren's weapons research to one of the Numiri ships in orbit of Banea. They hoped that Mr Paris would be sufficiently embarrassed not to mention the incident before the Numiri had captured him and destroyed the shuttle, thus concealing the fact that the Numiri had allies on Banea.~  
  
Chakotay's face darkened. "What went wrong?"  
  
~Banean neurological science is far more advanced than that of the Federation, Captain, but Lieutenant Paris' neurology was unfamiliar to Doctor Valen. He was unable to predict the effect the implant would have on Mr Paris. It was not intended to cause him any pain or, indeed, alert him to anything unusual, until it was too late. My extrapolation suggests that the Numiri would have killed Mr Paris as soon as they had the information contained in the device. The destruction of our shuttle and the deaths of Commander Janeway and Lieutenant Paris would have been considered an act of Numiri aggression unrelated to any occurrences on Banea. If you recall, Mr Neelix and Mr Zigan did warn us that the Numiri tend to attack any ship attempting to trade with the Baneans.~  
  
"I recall," the Captain replied grimly. "So if the Numiri were supposed to attack the shuttle once it left Banea, what was the purpose of Mr Carron and his friend?"  
  
~Professor Ren had questioned Commander Janeway regarding both the shuttle's and Voyager's defensive capabilities. Mrs Ren reported the information back to Doctor Valen. I can only assume that Valen was sufficiently impressed by our weaponry that he decided to have Commander Janeway killed, and Lieutenant Paris incapacitated, before leaving Banea. Mr Carron was to have piloted the shuttle and delivered Mr Paris to the Numiri. Evidently they underestimated the Commander's hand-to-hand combat expertise.~  
  
"Evidently. Why did Mrs Ren get involved in this?"  
  
~Mrs Ren's marriage is not a happy one, sir. She is romantically involved with Doctor Valen. Her level of complicity remains to be seen, however. It is possible she is unaware of the purpose of the implant, or indeed, of the Numiri involvement, as Doctor Valen claims. I understand that security personnel have already been sent to apprehend her.~  
  
"And the implant - can it be removed?"  
  
~Doctor Valen claims that he or any of his associates can remove it quite simply and with no lasting ill-effects to Lieutenant Paris, provided the operation is performed as soon as possible. However, I must inform you that Minister Solar of Banean Security has insisted that the extraction be performed here on the planet, as he is unwilling to risk sending any Banean citizens outside the planetary shield grid. You will need to return Lieutenant Paris to the surface within the next forty-eight hours. You should also be aware that the number of Numiri vessels in orbit has increased to three warships and four scout vessels. It would not be advisable to transport Mr Paris in a shuttle, and Voyager will likely suffer significant damage if detected by the Numiri.~  
  
Chakotay leaned back. "In that case, we need a battle plan. Tuvok, find out as much as you can about the Numiri from your local contacts and send me the data. I'll meet with Zigan as soon as I can, and in the meantime, I'll consult with Commander Janeway." He paused. "Oh, and Tuvok?"  
  
~Yes, Captain?~  
  
"Good work."  
  
The screen went black and for a moment the Captain sat motionless, but for the pulse and jump of a vein on one temple. He flattened his hands carefully on the desk, exhaled slowly, and stood.  
  
"Computer," Chakotay said, "locate Commander Janeway."  
  
~Commander Janeway is in Sickbay.~  
  
=/\=  
  
She felt like a misbehaving schoolgirl, creeping along darkened corridors in the middle of the night. A snatch of conversation wafted toward her and she ducked into a turbolift. "Deck five," she said quickly.  
  
As she'd hoped, Sickbay was deserted but for its lone patient. She padded silently to his bedside and, looking down at him, wondered again what insane impulse had sent her here in the first place.  
  
He was still so pale, lines of pain and fatigue scored deep between his eyes. She touched a finger to them, as though she could smooth them away; she traced the dip of his aristocratic nose; her fingertips came to rest on the curve of his mouth. She felt lightheaded. Paris stirred.  
  
She snatched her hand back, barely breathing, but he didn't wake, and after a few moments she dared to touch him again, this time curving her palm to the contour of cheekbone and jaw. The faint stirring of his breath tickled her wrist and she curled her fingers into his hair. The memory hit her like a fist to the gut and she closed her eyes. His beautiful face, bloodless. His twisted mouth, his bewildered eyes, the words he spoke that made no sense. Her fingers in his hair. Her terror and despair. Her understanding that he might die.  
  
"Kate."  
  
Janeway leapt away from Paris' bed. "Chakotay," she snapped, furious with embarrassment. "For Christ's sake, what are you doing here?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing." He folded his arms and she saw the ill- concealed hurt in his eyes. "Checking up on your protegé?"  
  
She lashed out from humiliation. "You sound like a jealous lover."  
  
"Because that's how I feel."  
  
His words dropped like stones into the space between them, Chakotay as shocked as Kathryn by his admission.  
  
Finally she remembered to breathe. "Chakotay, you can't -"  
  
"I know," he snapped, and turned away. When he looked back at her his face was blank. "Commander, I came here to update you on the Banean situation. Perhaps you could join me in my ready room" - a touch of anger returned to his voice - "when you've finished with Lieutenant Paris."  
  
She flushed, straightened. "Yes, Captain."  
  
The doors of Sickbay were sliding closed almost before she'd finished speaking. 


	9. Nine

__________________ nine __________________  
  
Stardate 48620.3  
  
"veQDuj chomaw!¹"  
  
B'Elanna Torres sat back on her heels and blinked back tears of frustration. I will not cry, she scolded herself. I will not be defeated by a malfunctioning projection of light. She blew an errant lock of hair from her forehead and tapped her commbadge. "Torres to Kim."  
  
No answer.  
  
"Ensign Kim, respond, dammit!"  
  
~B'Elanna?~ Kim's voice was a weary groan. ~You woke me up.~  
  
"Sorry," she snapped, not sounding sorry at all. "But since you're awake now, I suggest you get your sweet little butt down here and help me with this Ha'DlbaH Qlp² before I kick a hole in the holodeck wall."  
  
There was a pause, then Kim answered cautiously. ~Uh, did you just say something about my butt?~  
  
Torres stopped short, flushing. "Just get down here, Harry."  
  
He couldn't hide the grin in his voice. ~Yes, Lieutenant. On my way.~  
  
Tactical Training Program Tuvok Kazon Beta flickered nauseatingly around her as B'Elanna hunched over the access panel again. She aimed the emitter realigner at it like a weapon. "Damn shame you can't kill a holographic projection," she addressed it, "because today would be a very good day for you to die."  
  
~All senior officers report to the briefing room immediately.~  
  
B'Elanna stood and flung the tool into her engineering kit. "Computer," she said grimly, "end program."  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay rarely bothered with the unspoken captain's privilege of being last to arrive at any meeting. He took his chair at the head of the table, waiting for his senior officers to file into the room. He could picture them already: Janeway, poker face perfect. Kim, still scrubbing sleep from his eyes after his short night's rest. Torres, looking murderous and ready to lynch the first person who mentioned the word "hologram". Neelix, spots glowing with apprehension. Kes, calm as always - he was a little relieved she'd be standing in as Chief Medical Officer while the ever-temperamental EMH was offline. The two other stand-ins - Ensign Ayala, covering Tuvok's duties, and Seska, who would take Paris' empty chair - would most likely look dependably underwhelmed at their temporary promotions. Chakotay tapped the monitor before him to call up their personnel files.  
  
Ayala he knew little about; one of the former Maquis, the dark-haired security officer kept to himself. But Janeway had proposed him for the position of Acting Tactical Chief, and during the last crew performance assessment Tuvok had described him as "calm, rational, and possessing adequate, if unconventional, tactical skills"; high praise from the perfectionist Vulcan. Chakotay had no doubt Ayala would perform.  
  
Ensign Seska was a different matter, but Chakotay wasn't sure why. Lieutenant Paris commended her piloting skill. The Doctor had offered no complaints about her performance in Sickbay. Her Starfleet personnel file was a dry affair, containing a commendation from Captain Sanders of the USS Melinche, her previous posting, and little else. Her academic record was solid without being outstanding, the only illuminating information being that, as she was Bajoran and not a member of the United Federation of Planets, her entry into Starfleet Academy was required to be sponsored by a command-level officer. In her case, sponsorship was provided by Captain Benjamin Maxwell of the USS Phoenix, whose sympathy for the Bajoran people was well-known - and whose hatred of Cardassians had led him to make unprovoked attacks on Cardassian supply ships after the signing of the peace treaty, earning him a court-martial on Stardate 44451, halfway through Seska's third year at the Academy.  
  
Maxwell. The name teased a memory: a briefing at Starfleet HQ by Admiral Nechayev the day the Federation had signed the treaty with Cardassia. Captain Maxwell had been irate and unable to hide it. The icy Nechayev had almost cited him for insubordination. Chakotay had taken Kathryn to Nechayev's reception that evening, and if he remembered correctly, she and Maxwell'd had quite a long conversation. He'd have to bring it up with her - an insight into Maxwell's character could lead to an insight into Seska's. He brought his attention back to the screen before him.  
  
Seska's medical file listed no major injuries or illnesses. Her psychological report from the counselor on the Melinche stated that she had attended one counselling session, on the order of her supervisor, after an ill-fated away mission during which her team had been abducted by a group of Ferengi intent on holding them for ransom. The counselor's conclusion was that Ensign Seska was well-adjusted and had suffered no long-lasting trauma from the incident. And Chakotay himself thought that she seemed on good terms with the Voyager crew, Starfleet and Maquis alike, though he had no idea which of them she'd call her friends.  
  
Perhaps that was the source of his unease. His crew included eight Bajorans: five from the Liberty and three from the original Starfleet crew. The history of Bajor was a tragic one, at least in recent times, and one with which he couldn't help but empathise - Bajor had been crippled by Cardassian occupation; Cardassian attacks had devastated his own home world. Since the Federation-Cardassian ceasefire the number of Bajorans seeking to enter Starfleet had remained relatively constant, but he knew from personal experience that a desire to serve the Federation did not always sit well with Bajoran officers. Chakotay sighed, remembering the defection of Lieutenant Ro Laren to the Maquis, almost immediately after she'd studied advanced tactical training under his command. She'd been fiercely proud of her Bajoran heritage, and outspoken (to say the least, he grimaced, recalling their debates) on her opinion of Cardassians. Perhaps her defection shouldn't have been such a surprise.  
  
But since the early days in the Delta quadrant, the Bajorans aboard Voyager had been a stabilising influence in the integration of the two crews. Their pride in their culture and the horrific experiences most of them had suffered at the hands of the Cardassians had created a bond between them which evidently transcended their military allegiance. It wasn't unusual to enter the mess hall to find a group of them, from the vehement Tabor to the timid Celes, trading war stories or laughing together or just sharing a table in silence. All except Seska.  
  
He knew she attended the many religious and cultural events the Bajoran crewmembers organised, he'd seen her wearing the traditional Bajoran earring in her off-duty hours, and her speech was littered with references to the Prophets. But he'd never observed her seeking out the company of her Bajoran crewmates, nor they hers. Somehow, she just didn't seem to belong.  
  
Chakotay shook his head. This train of thought was nebulous at best, and in any case he should be concentrating on the mission ahead. He switched off the monitor as the door slid open and his senior staff filed into the room.  
  
"Good morning," he addressed them pleasantly. "We have a big day ahead of us."  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay caught up to her as she strode from the briefing room. "Kathryn, are you sure you're up to this?"  
  
She tossed her head in irritation. "Captain, let me remind you that I am a capable pilot. I can handle it."  
  
"That wasn't what I meant."  
  
She still wouldn't look at him. "I feel fine," she said shortly.  
  
His voice cooled a little. "I have no doubt that Lieutenant Paris is in good hands." Before she could snarl at him, Chakotay turned back to the bridge.  
  
The turbolift doors opened and she stepped inside. "Shuttlebay one," she barked. She realised she was clenching her fists and forced herself to relax her fingers, breathing slowly. Her blood pressure was almost under control by the time she'd commed Ensign Lang and Crewman Dalby. By the time she'd unlocked the Cochrane and begun the pre-flight sequence she felt almost calm. She knew better than to believe she was no longer angry or embarrassed. It was simply the centering effect of preparing for a dangerous mission.  
  
"Commander." The dark-haired Lang acknowledged Janeway in her usual no- nonsense fashion as she swung into the shuttle. Dalby followed her, mouth downturned in his habitual scowl. Janeway tapped her commbadge again. "Janeway to Sickbay. We're ready for transport."  
  
Tom Paris materialised on the pallet in the shuttle's rear compartment. Janeway stepped over to him; he was awake and seemingly lucid. "Ready?" she asked curtly. He nodded.  
  
She turned back to the other two. "Dalby, take tactical. Lang, you're at navigation. Here's what's going to happen."  
  
=/\=  
  
~Cochrane to Bridge; all systems go. Clear us for departure.~  
  
"Cleared, Commander. We'll be right behind you." Chakotay hesitated. "Good luck," he added, his tone slightly less crisply professional. He watched the small shuttle clear the docking bay and go to warp.  
  
"Keep a sensor lock on the Cochrane, Mr Kim. Hail the Ruatans." He waited until Zigan's smiling face appeared on the viewscreen. "Mr Zigan, we're about to set a course to Banea. We hope to see you in a few hours. And thank you again, for all your help."  
  
Zigan bobbed his head. ~I wish you luck, Captain. See you soon.~ The viewscreen blinked off and Chakotay sat, placing his hands on the armrests.  
  
"Ensign Seska," he said. "Take us out of orbit, and go to full impulse once we're clear of Ruata."  
  
"Laying in a course to the Banean system," Seska answered. "Engaging at full impulse."  
  
"How soon will the Cochrane be in range of Banea?"  
  
"At their current speed of warp five, they will enter the system in four hours, seventeen min -"  
  
~Sickbay to Bridge.~  
  
Chakotay's head shot up. "Doctor?"  
  
~Thankfully, yes,~ came the EMH's tart reply. ~Furthermore, I appear to be fully functional. And not a moment too soon, I might add. It appears somebody has released Lieutenant Paris from Sickbay without my authorisation. His condition is serious, Captain, and he should be returned imme -~  
  
"Doctor," Chakotay interrupted, "we're a little busy right now. Kes will fill you in. Chakotay out." He turned to the Ops station. "Did Lieutenant Torres manage to repair the Doctor's program?"  
  
"No, sir," Kim said excitedly, "but I think I know what did. We detected an unknown energy field interfering with the holosystems but couldn't locate the source. When we left orbit of Ruata a few minutes ago, there was a decline in the concentration of kedion particles throughout the ship. Kedion particles are generally harmless to our technology, but at higher concentrations, and in combination with resonating positronic devices, they have been known to initiate shutdown in axionic or positronic networks. It's possible that a similar effect would occur in photonic matrices as well. I believe the Ruatan cloaking device uses resonating positrons to create a kind of phased kedion pulse, which interfered with the holo- imaging processors." Kim paused for breath. "Uh, the upshot is, as long as we remain outside the Ruatan cloak, we shouldn't have any further problems with our holosystems."  
  
Chakotay allowed a grin to pull at the corner of his mouth. "Good work, Harry. I'll leave it to you to inform Lieutenant Torres."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Kim said with an answering grin.  
  
The Captain turned back to Seska. "How long now until the Cochrane reaches the outskirts of the Banean system?"  
  
"Three hours, fifty-six minutes, sir. If we go to maximum warp in two hours' time, we'll reach that system three minutes after the Cochrane does."  
  
He nodded, standing. "Inform me when we're approaching Banea. I'll be in my ready room." He hesitated. There was a decision to make.  
  
In normal circumstances, he'd hand control of the bridge to Tom Paris if neither Janeway nor Tuvok were present; as chief helmsman, he was also the third officer. With all three absent, the guidelines were a little murky. Harry Kim was the sole remaining senior officer on the bridge, but Seska was acting chief helmsman; and by rights, he should place the bridge under her control. But Kim had command experience, even if it was minimal. To his knowledge, Seska had none. And much as he tried to dismiss his instincts about her, he couldn't. The truth was, he wasn't sure he trusted her.  
  
They were looking at him expectantly; he couldn't prevaricate any longer. "Ensign Kim," he stated. "You have the bridge."  
  
Seska's face revealed nothing as Chakotay walked into the ready room.  
  
=/\=  
  
~Seska to Captain Chakotay. We will reach Banean space in fifteen minutes.~  
  
"On my way." He picked up the PADD he'd been reading, containing the information the Ruatans had given him on Numiri battle tactics, and entered the bridge.  
  
"Shuttlecraft status." Chakotay couldn't quite keep the tension from his voice.  
  
"The Cochrane is approaching Banea, sir," Kim informed him. "The Sacajawea and the Drake report all systems ready."  
  
"Helm?"  
  
"Ready, Captain," replied Seska.  
  
"Tactical?"  
  
"Photon torpedoes armed and standing by. Phaser banks are fully charged."  
  
Chakotay nodded. "Open a channel to the Cochrane."  
  
~Janeway here.~  
  
"Initiate sequence."  
  
~Understood. All engines shut down. Initiating power surge to the port plasma relays. Venting plasma from the port nacelle. The Numiri vessels have detected us. Two warships and three scout vessels are approaching our position. Time to intercept, twelve minutes.~  
  
"Acknowledged, Cochrane; hold your position. Chakotay to Drake and Sacajawea."  
  
~Drake ready. Initiating launch sequence,~ Batehart responded.  
  
~Sacajawea ready,~ replied Culhane. ~Clearing shuttlebay in ten seconds.~  
  
Ayala spoke. "The remaining Numiri warship and scoutship are holding position on the other side of the Banean system, Captain. The vessels approaching the Cochrane have powered their weapons. Ten minutes to intercept."  
  
Chakotay nodded. "All hands to battle stations."  
  
=/\=  
  
Something picked at the grey mist of his consciousness.  
  
". approaching fast . warship . closing in . seconds."  
  
"Readying starboard thrusters . second scout vessel . "  
  
Voices. He struggled to open his eyes. The effort required was extreme. Why bother, he thought, and began to sink again.  
  
". firing. Hard to port!"  
  
His world lurched sickeningly. The mist subsided a little; Tom forced himself into semi-awareness. Where was he? He tried to piece together the jigsaw of his memories. There had been voices. Somebody had mentioned a warship. Voyager was under attack, he decided. I have to get to my post.  
  
He forced his eyes open. There was nothing familiar about his surroundings. Vertigo came in nauseating spirals. Tom swallowed carefully and felt for solid ground. His fingers met fabric and metal and his dull brain struggled to comprehend. He was in bed. Sickbay, he remembered suddenly. I must be in Sickbay. "Doctor," he croaked, but the Doctor didn't answer. He squinted. This wasn't Sickbay. He was - he was - in a shuttlecraft! He felt ridiculously proud of himself for working that one out.  
  
"Incoming fire from the second scoutship!"  
  
He heard the whine of a torpedo and an instant later was jolted from his bed, crashing hard onto the shuttle floor. Bright pain sparked inside his head. He groaned.  
  
Janeway heard it from the cockpit. "Lang, see to Paris," she ordered, and the ensign scuttled to the aft compartment with a medkit. Through a thickening haze of pain, Paris managed to focus on her face. He mumbled something.  
  
"Shh, don't talk." The voice was female, soothing, though he couldn't quite identify the features. It seemed very important that he make her understand him. Paris gathered his strength and moved his fingers to brush against her hand. "Cardassians or Romulans?" he asked her.  
  
The face puckered. She said something but he couldn't understand her. Perhaps his universal translator was malfunctioning. "Are we in the demilitarized zone?" he tried again.  
  
Lang called over her shoulder, "Commander, I think he's getting worse. He's making no sense at all."  
  
Somehow Paris managed to curl his fingers over hers. "Talk to me," he said as forcefully as he could. "I want to know what's going on - I have to get to the Bridge ."  
  
The face retreated. Lang leaned into the cockpit. "Commander, he's delirious. I don't think I can give him anything safely. His temperature's forty-two degrees and his heartrate is almost twice normal. I've only done basic first aid, but I'm not sure he can survive much longer."  
  
Janeway nodded, mouth tightening, without taking her eyes from the sensor readouts. "Do the best you can, Ensign. It won't be much longer now."  
  
Paris had drifted again, but now the face was back and making gentle noises at him. He felt a cool hand on his forehead. Somewhere, it sparked a memory. He smiled. "Kat," he murmured. "I'm glad you're here."  
  
The face looked a question at him, but his eyes had closed again.  
  
=/\=  
  
Janeway suppressed a shudder of distaste at the ugly Numiri face filling the shuttle's viewscreen. "You will surrender your vessel immediately," it demanded. "Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded. Any attempt to defend yourselves will be met with deadly force."  
  
On the sensor panel a light began to flash. Janeway smiled.  
  
"I don't think so," she addressed the viewscreen calmly. "You see, the cavalry's just about to arrive." With a certain vicious pleasure she stabbed at the control to close the channel. The Numiri captain disappeared, his knobbly skin and beady eyes replaced by the graceful white lines of Voyager streaking out of warp.  
  
"They're hailing," Dalby told her.  
  
Janeway nodded. "Open a channel."  
  
Chakotay's face appeared. I like this view better than the last one, Janeway thought, and suppressed it immediately.  
  
~Everything under control, Commander?~  
  
"Your timing is impeccable, Captain," she replied. "The Numiri were just about to board us."  
  
~Leave your comm line open while I hail them.~  
  
She nodded, and closed visual, leaving audio online. She heard Chakotay addressing the Numiri captain.  
  
~This is Captain Chakotay of the Federation starship Voyager. Why have you fired on our shuttle?~  
  
The Numiri captain sounded outraged. ~Alien vessel, you have entered Numiri space. Your crew will be imprisoned and your vessel impounded. Do not attempt to resist or we will destroy you.~  
  
~You seem awfully certain of that, Captain.~ Janeway hid a smirk at the deceptive mildness of Chakotay's words. ~However I think you'll find us prepared to defend ourselves.~  
  
There was a horrific grating noise which Janeway realised was Numiri laughter. ~Then prepare to die,~ the alien said, and immediately bombarded Voyager with phaser fire. The elegant ship went into a rolling dive. Evasive maneuvres, pattern Omega, Janeway thought with satisfaction, watching as the Numiri phasers grazed the forward shields with minimum damage. "Voyager's shields are down to 98 percent," Dalby reported.  
  
The second warship, as though surprised that Voyager hadn't been instantly destroyed, suddenly leapt into life, circling behind the Starfleet ship. The Cochrane crew watched as both Numiri ships concentrated their fire on Voyager's aft shield generator. Blue lightning cracked through space as Voyager retaliated. Dalby commented, "Direct hit on the first warship's engines. The Numiri still haven't detected our shuttles."  
  
Janeway nodded. "All right, let's get moving." She tapped at the helm console and the shuttle began to inch forward at just over 200 kilometres per hour. "Dalby, keep monitoring those scout ships and let me know the minute they wake up. And keep up the status reports."  
  
Dalby acknowledged. "Voyager's shields are at 76 percent. Our shuttles are still in formation. The first warship's warp engines are offline. The second ship is undamaged. They're coming about . Commander, the three scout ships are moving to intercept us. They're firing -"  
  
Janeway's fingers flew over the controls and the shuttle pitched to starboard, speed increasing to one-quarter impulse. She'd avoided the first shot but could do nothing about the second. Sparks flew from Dalby's station and he ducked automatically. "Our shields are down," he shouted. "One of the scout ships is preparing to fire again."  
  
"Come on, Chakotay," Janeway muttered as she flung the Cochrane through a near-impossible series of twisting rolls. She heard the cold whistle of a torpedo and spun the small shuttle almost 180 degrees to avoid it. She was almost successful. But the torpedo had been programmed to explode when it reached proximity of the shuttle instead of on impact. The blast threw her out of her chair and knocked the Cochrane into a flat spin. Janeway landed on her knees - hard - and let loose a string of Klingon expletives which made even Dalby blush.  
  
Lang clutched her way into the cockpit. "Lieutenant Paris is unconscious again," she told Janeway, hauling her up from the floor.  
  
"Take the helm, Ensign." Janeway limped toward the engineering console as Lang stabilised the shuttle. "Dalby, report?"  
  
"Shields are gone, phasers are offline, and we took damage to the navigational array. And warp engines are failing. Basically," Dalby concluded, "we're fucked."  
  
"Or not," Lang broke in, unable to suppress her relief. "The Drake just disabled one of the scout ships, and the Sacajawea is breaking formation with Voyager. They're laying down covering fire."  
  
"If we don't stabilise the warp engines it won't do us much good," Janeway muttered. She pried a panel from the bulkhead. "Lang, try to keep us out of reach of those scout ships. Dalby, try to fix the navigational array. This should only take a moment . Got it!" She scrambled to her feet.  
  
"Navigational array fully operational," Dalby called. He checked the tactical display. "Commander, one of the warships is moving away from Voyager. It'll be in weapons range in twenty seconds."  
  
Janeway swore again.  
  
"Voyager is in pursuit," reported Lang. "Our shuttles are moving between us and the warship."  
  
They watched as the Drake and the Sacajawea fired continuously on the warship, targeting its weapons array as they performed acrobatics to stay out of its line of fire. And then the two Numiri scout ships swooped out from behind the warship and headed directly for the Cochrane.  
  
=/\=  
  
Chakotay gripped the back of Seska's chair, steadying himself as Voyager absorbed another phaser blast from the Numiri warship to their rear. He summed up the on-screen crisis and decided he didn't like it at all. "Seska, bring us to heading one-eight-two mark four, maximum impulse. Ayala, prepare to launch a photon torpedo."  
  
"Captain?" Seska didn't spare him a glance but he could tell she thought he was crazy. "That heading will take us directly into the lead warship's path."  
  
"Do it," he ordered, and settled himself calmly in the command chair.  
  
On screen, the Starfleet shuttles buzzed about the hulking warship like a pair of gnats, striking whenever they had a clear shot. Culhane and Batehart knew as well as Chakotay did that the damage they could inflict was negligible, but they'd keep the warship sufficiently distracted while Voyager maneuvred into position. He watched as the Numiri scout ships evaded the thick of the battle, edging toward the defenceless Cochrane.  
  
Just another second .  
  
=/\=  
  
"Do we have weapons yet?" Janeway demanded.  
  
"Negative. Our phaser relays are fused." This time there was a definite quiver in Ensign Lang's voice. "And we'll need at least ten minutes to re- initialise the shield grid."  
  
"We're sitting ducks," muttered Dalby.  
  
"Not if I can help it." Janeway limped toward them. "Lang, get out of that chair. I'm taking the helm."  
  
"What are you doing?" Dalby asked warily, one eye on the tactical console.  
  
Janeway was laying in coordinates. "Lang, on my mark I want you to give me a one-second burst of warp power, then completely shut down all engines. Dalby, at the same time I want you to generate a thoron burst. That should fool their sensors for a little longer."  
  
Lang was looking at Janeway with something approaching hero worship. "Understood," she breathed. Dalby, clearly still confused, checked his sensors again. That trailing warship wasn't trailing anymore. It was circling behind Voyager and powering its weapons, and its weapons were trained directly on the Cochrane.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Direct hit on the port scout ship," Ayala reported. "Its shields have failed. It is retreating."  
  
"One down," muttered Chakotay. "Tell Batehart to target the other scout ship's impulse engines, I'm detecting fluctuations in its energy readouts."  
  
"Acknowledged," said Ayala, and a moment later the second scout ship faltered under fire from the Drake, sputtered, and careened drunkenly to starboard.  
  
And then Voyager was sliding like a warm knife through butter between the disabled scout ships. The lead Numiri warship loomed huge on the viewscreen, haloed by the diving, swooping shuttles. Chakotay tapped his commbadge. "Voyager to Drake and Sacajawea. Get the hell out of there - now."  
  
The two shuttles broke from their intricate dance, looping smoothly back toward Voyager. Chakotay nodded to Ayala. "Fire torpedo."  
  
=/\=  
  
"Mark!"  
  
Simultaneously, Lang triggered a short burst of warp power and Dalby activated the thoron emitters. For a split second the stars became streaks and then they were specks again. Lang shut down the engines and Janeway routed minimum power through the thrusters, coasting the shuttle gently into position. "All stop," she commanded.  
  
=/\=  
  
There was an eye-watering explosion of light and Voyager swayed nauseatingly as it surfed the shockwave. For a moment time seemed to stand still. Then space cleared.  
  
"The lead warship has been destroyed," reported Ayala. "The remaining warship and the damaged scout vessels are retreating."  
  
"Chakotay to Drake and Sacajawea. Get back to the shuttlebay as soon as you can." Chakotay spoke on autopilot, scanning the viewscreen, suddenly terrified. "Ayala . what the hell happened to the Cochrane?"  
  
Ayala was already busy running sensor sweeps. "Sir, I'm not sure. They should have been out of the blast range, but I'm not detecting them ."  
  
Chakotay swallowed. "Are you detecting any debris?"  
  
"No, sir, but it's difficult to tell what's out there. There's a lot of thoron radiation jamming the sensors ." His voice trailed off and he looked up at the captain, a rare grin wreathing his face. "If I know Commander Janeway, they're fine, sir. We used thoron radiation in the Maquis. It was pretty effective at fooling sensors. My guess is -"  
  
~Cochrane to Voyager.~  
  
Chakotay's shoulders sagged in visible relief as Janeway appeared on screen. "Where are you, Commander?"  
  
There was no trace of smugness in her voice. ~We're parked behind the Banean moon. The shuttle's in pretty bad shape. We could use a tow, if you're not too busy.~ She allowed herself a small smile.  
  
The captain leaned back in his chair, straight-faced. "Care to let us in on your escape strategy, Commander?"  
  
~Hide and seek, sir, or if you prefer, a combination of Maquis guile and Starfleet pilot training. Didn't they teach you the Picard maneuver at the Academy?~  
  
"As a matter of fact, they did." Chakotay's smile was for her alone. "Well done, Kate."  
  
Her blue eyes warmed for an instant, and then she was back to business. ~With your permission, I'll leave Ensign Lang in charge here while Lieutenant Paris and I transport to the planet. His condition's deteriorating.~  
  
"Permission granted, Commander. Chakotay out."  
  
Ayala spoke up as Janeway closed the channel. "Captain, I'm detecting three more Numiri warships on long-range sensors. They're on an intercept course and should reach us in three hours."  
  
Chakotay nodded. By that time, he hoped, the Baneans would have finished with Paris and Voyager could set course back to the Ruatan system. If he never saw another Numiri face it would be too soon. 


	10. Ten

__________________ ten __________________  
  
Stardate 48621.0  
  
His chest felt sledgehammered, his limbs dead weights, and his throat dryer than Vulcan. But the pain in his head was gone.  
  
Tom Paris opened his eyes.  
  
"Welcome back."  
  
He turned toward the throaty voice. "Kat? Uh - I mean -"  
  
Surprise flickered briefly across her face and was gone. "You're on Banea, Lieutenant. Do you remember anything?"  
  
Paris thought about it. "Not much," he admitted, and gave her the ghost of his smile. "Care to fill me in, Commander?"  
  
"Later," she answered. "How do you feel? Can you sit up?"  
  
He mentally tested limbs and muscles. "Sure, in theory." Gingerly he raised himself, wincing at what he surmised had been broken ribs, swinging his legs carefully over the edge of the bed and waiting to see if his balance had been restored before lowering himself to the floor. "Can't keep a good pilot down," he quipped.  
  
"Nor his ego, evidently," she retorted, but there was none of the usual sting in her words. "Come on. Voyager's waiting for us."  
  
The door to the surgery bay opened as Janeway helped him toward it. Two Baneans in medical garb entered, followed by Lieutenant Tuvok. "Mr Paris," Tuvok acknowledged him. "You appear much improved."  
  
"Really," he muttered. "I'd hate to have seen what I looked like before, then."  
  
Tuvok ignored him, turning to Janeway. "Voyager is standing by to beam us aboard, Commander."  
  
"Then by all means advise them to proceed, Lieutenant."  
  
As the transporter beam dematerialised him, Tom Paris took some pleasure from knowing that Commander Janeway did not reserve her sarcasm solely for him.  
  
He rematerialised in front of the captain. "Good to see you up and about, Lieutenant," Chakotay told him, but he wasn't looking at Paris. His gaze was locked with Janeway's. There was a charge in the air, like burning ozone.  
  
"Mr Tuvok," Chakotay continued, "please report to your station as soon as you're ready. Ensign Ayala will brief you."  
  
"Aye, sir." Tuvok turned to leave, then hesitated. "Lieutenant Paris, perhaps I should escort you to Sickbay. I'm sure the Doctor will wish to examine you."  
  
"Right," Paris answered automatically. He didn't move.  
  
Nor did Janeway, her eyes fixed on the captain's.  
  
"Now, Mr Paris," Tuvok said quietly.  
  
Paris tore himself reluctantly away, and his movement broke whatever spell had been cast. Chakotay stepped back from the transporter pad to let Janeway down. As he followed her from the room, they didn't look at each other once.  
  
Paris couldn't stop looking at them not looking at each other.  
  
=/\=  
  
Paris listened in fascination as Kim told him the whole story, from the communications device Lidell Ren's lover had stuck in his head, to his own delirium and near death, to the conspiracy Tuvok had uncovered. He sat back, reeling. "Damn," he said softly. "It's like hearing about the latest craze holonovel and not being able to get my hands on a copy of my own."  
  
"And I'm just getting to the good part," Kim said gleefully.  
  
"There's a good part?" Paris quirked an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Well, you know what I mean," he said hastily. "The rescue mission!"  
  
"Excuse me," the EMH broke in with heavy sarcasm, "but the tales of the fearless Voyager crew can wait for another time. Lieutenant, I want to conduct a full neurological examination. Please lie down on the bio-bed and close your eyes. Mr Kim, I'm afraid you'll have to leave now."  
  
"Oh come on, Doc," Tom protested. "I can listen with my eyes closed, all right? Besides," his eyes narrowed, "I thought you were offline for most of the last few days. You must be curious about what happened - admit it."  
  
"Very well." The Doctor rolled his eyes, the image of long-suffering patience. "If you must. But keep it brief, Ensign. Mr Paris needs his rest."  
  
"Right," Harry said, leaning forward. "Well, first we had to figure out a battle plan. We knew the Numiri would be blockading Banea, and we knew they'd want to get ahold of you and extract the information about the Banean weapons from your brain. So Commander Janeway came up with the idea of taking the Numiri by surprise. She took you to Banea in the Cochrane so the Numiri would think you'd be an easy target. And then she blew out some plasma relays and made it look like the shuttle was in serious trouble so they'd get even more over-confident. And just as they were about to tractor in the shuttle, Voyager came racing up like an avenging army to save the day."  
  
"And did you? Save the day?" Tom was enjoying Harry's melodramatic tale as much as Harry was enjoying telling it.  
  
"Actually," Kim grinned, "I think Commander Janeway saved the day. It was Voyager and our three shuttles against five Numiri ships, two of them warships armed to the teeth. We'd managed to disable their scout ships, but then the warships came about and headed straight for your shuttle. We had one of them in a torpedo lock and the other had a clear shot on the Cochrane. Just as we fired, the Cochrane disappeared."  
  
"Disappeared?"  
  
"Right, no trace of her, nothing on sensors. We thought you'd been destroyed. And then Commander Janeway hailed us."  
  
"Where was she?" Paris was rapt.  
  
Kim grinned. "She'd pulled off the Picard maneuver and taken the shuttle behind a moon. We couldn't detect her because she'd generated a thoron field to -"  
  
~Red alert. Senior officers to the bridge.~ Chakotay's voice cut clearly through the sudden wailing of klaxons.  
  
"What now?" huffed the Doctor. Paris was already climbing down from the bio- bed. The EMH stopped him with an implacable holographic hand on his arm. "Lieutenant, I haven't discharged you from Sickbay."  
  
"Doc -" he protested. "I feel perfectly fine. And you heard the captain. I am still a senior officer on this ship and I should be on the bridge."  
  
The Doctor hesitated. Paris' scans had shown nothing to be concerned about. "All right, you can go. But report back to Sickbay as soon as possible."  
  
"Thanks, Doc." Paris shot him a grin as he caught up to Kim at the turbolift door. "So, what now?" he asked companionably. "The Numiri just couldn't bear the thought of never seeing me again?"  
  
Harry snorted. "Maybe Lidell Ren was so overcome by your charms that she decided to kidnap you and keep you for a love slave."  
  
His grin faded quickly at the look on Paris' face.  
  
"Uh, sorry. I guess that wasn't really very funny," Kim said lamely.  
  
Tom was staring at the floor. "It's okay. I just ." he chewed his lip. "It's just that . what you said hit a little close to home. I'd kind of hoped I'd never hear myself referred to as a 'love slave' again in this lifetime." He met Harry's gaze with a half-smile.  
  
Harry looked shocked to his core.  
  
"Oh fuck," Tom muttered, half under his breath. "You mean you didn't know?"  
  
Kim opened his mouth, said "When .?", thought better of it, and closed it again. He shook his head.  
  
Paris groaned. "Then do me a favour and forget I mentioned it."  
  
"It's already forgotten," Kim assured him as the turbolift opened onto the bridge.  
  
=/\=  
  
~Alien vessel.~ This time the Numiri captain sounded not angry, but smug. ~You are surrounded. Surrender immediately and we may allow you to live.~  
  
"They've really got to work on their public relations strategy," muttered Ensign Ashmore as she surrendered the Ops station to Kim.  
  
He spared her a brief smile, busy working the console to assess the situation. Four Numiri warships and - he double-checked - three Lodian attack cruisers. "Since when have the Lodians been Numiri allies?" he asked Ashmore.  
  
"Since now, I guess," she replied. "Lucky for us."  
  
Chakotay rose from his chair and stood behind Paris at the helm, stalling for time. "As you can see, Lieutenant Paris has had your communications implant removed. Attacking us serves no purpose."  
  
Now there was definitely anger. ~It serves the purpose of vengeance! You destroyed our vessel and killed ninety-six of our people. You will be punished.~  
  
The screen went dark, and almost immediately a phaser burst impacted against Voyager's forward shields. "Shields at 90 per cent," Tuvok reported.  
  
Chakotay exchanged glances with Janeway. "We can't outgun them," she said quietly.  
  
"Then we'll have to outrun them. Mr Paris, are you up for some fancy flying?"  
  
"Always, sir," Paris grinned.  
  
"Then take evasive maneuvres at your discretion. Tuvok, fire at will. Tom, as soon as we're clear, set a course for Ruata and engage at maximum -"  
  
Voyager lurched under another barrage.  
  
"They are targeting our warp engines," Tuvok said calmly.  
  
~Engineering to bridge.~  
  
"Go ahead, Lieutenant."  
  
Torres was shouting to be heard over the noise in Engineering. ~Captain, we've taken damage to the warp field coils. I can't create a stable warp field. I need five minutes to reroute power. How long can you hold them off?~  
  
"I guess we'll have to try for five minutes. Keep me informed. Chakotay out." He turned to the helmsman. "Do your best, Mr Paris."  
  
"Aye, sir." Paris' fingers were a blur on the console; Voyager twisted and feinted and spun on a dime, but it wasn't enough. Kim rerouted all available power to the shields, Tuvok set the phasers to full power and fired continuously, but it wasn't enough. Phaser pulses from two Lodian ships converged on Voyager's weapons array. "Phasers are offline," Tuvok said gravely.  
  
"Chakotay to Torres. Have you got those field coils stabilised yet?"  
  
~Almost, Captain - I need another thirty sec -~  
  
Torres' reply was cut off by the impact of a photon torpedo. Over the open commline the bridge crew could hear mayhem unfolding in the engine room. Carey was shouting instructions over the crackle of exploding consoles. "Lieutenant Torres, report!" Chakotay shouted.  
  
~This is Lieutenant Carey, sir. Lieutenant Torres has been injured. She's being taken to Sickbay. I'm completing the power transfer now. You should be able to go to warp six.~  
  
"Do it, Mr Paris," Chakotay ordered, and Voyager leapt out of the thick of the battle. "Report, Tuvok."  
  
"Warp engines are stable, and two of the Numiri ships have been hit by their own fire and are not pursuing. However, our phaser relays are fused, torpedo launchers are offline, and Lodian cruisers have a top speed of warp seven. They will be in range in less than two minutes."  
  
"Mr Carey, can you give us warp eight?"  
  
~Not for another four minutes at best, Captain. We're in pretty bad shape down here.~  
  
"Do the best you can, Lieutenant." Chakotay closed the channel. "Options?"  
  
He looked at Tuvok, who shook his head minimally. Kim looked blank. Janeway said quietly, "There are none."  
  
"Captain," Kim said suddenly. "I'm detecting vessels de-cloaking off the port beam . It's the Ruatans, sir."  
  
"Hail them."  
  
~Hello, Captain,~ Zigan grinned at him. ~You seem to be in a situation. How can we help?~  
  
"Mr Zigan, I appreciate your offer, but are you sure you want to risk armed conflict with the Numiri and the Lodians?"  
  
~Don't worry about that, Captain. My ship can extend its cloak to protect you. As far as they're concerned, you'll have disappeared off sensors. May we proceed?~  
  
"Of course -"  
  
~Sickbay to bridge!~  
  
"Yes, Doctor?" Chakotay said impatiently.  
  
~Captain, I've been monitoring the situation from here. Am I to understand you are about to place Voyager within the Ruatan cloak?~  
  
"That's right, and we have to do it quickly -"  
  
~Lieutenant Torres has been seriously injured. Several of her vertebrae have been fractured, and there are complications. If I don't operate now, the nerve tissue around the fractures will necrotise and she could be permanently paralysed. But if we cloak, my program will go offline.~  
  
"Understood, Doctor," Chakotay said quietly. He swiveled back to the viewscreen. "Zigan, I'm afraid we're going to have to decline your offer. I suggest you re-cloak and get your vessels to a safe distance. We'll have to fight this one out."  
  
Zigan covered his eyes with long six-fingered hands. ~Captain, I respect your courage, but we cannot stand by and allow you to be destroyed. We will join your fight.~  
  
"Enemy vessels in range in thirty seconds," Kim interjected.  
  
Chakotay nodded. "Doctor, how long do you need?"  
  
~I've almost completed the procedure. I need another three minutes.~  
  
"Keep me informed," Chakotay said through clenched teeth. He looked at his new ally. "Good luck, Mr Zigan. And in case I don't get a chance to say it later - thank you."  
  
Zigan nodded and the channel closed. And Voyager bucked under a Lodian assault.  
  
Janeway turned to Chakotay. "Permission to go to Engineering and help Lieutenant Carey."  
  
Chakotay nodded. Counting down the minutes, he listened grimly to the litany of damage and injury Tuvok and Kim were dutifully reporting. The Ruatans were valiant fighters, but their vessels hadn't been designed for combat. Two Ruatan ships circled, taking pot shots at the heavy Numiri ships; the others held the agile Lodian cruisers at bay, but several punishing volleys got through the Ruatan defenses. And then, in tumbling succession -  
  
~Janeway to the bridge. We can give you warp eight.~  
  
~Sickbay to bridge. Lieutenant Torres' condition is stable.~  
  
- and a torpedo exploded, knocking Paris from his chair. Culhane scrambled into his place.  
  
"Chakotay to Zigan, retreat! Culhane, increase to warp eight."  
  
And in an instant Zigan's ship extended its cloak around Voyager, and the cloaked fleet leapt forward, leaving their attackers behind.  
  
=/\=  
  
Crippled but unbowed, a Starfleet ship hung in cloaked orbit above the Ruatan homeworld. Her captain sank into his ready room chair and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
The chirp of the doorpad was about the only part of the ship which seemed to be in working order. "Come in," Chakotay sighed.  
  
Janeway entered, hair knocked from its pins, dirt smudging her cheek. "Here's Carey's engineering report." She handed him a PADD.  
  
He placed it on the stack already towering on his desk. "Want to give me the abridged version?"  
  
She sat opposite him. "Surprisingly, it's not too bad. We overtaxed the engines and there was some structural damage to the engine room, but Carey thinks we'll be back in top form within a week. Barring further attacks, of course."  
  
"Which might be an issue," he sighed. "The Ruatans have invited us to stay in orbit as long as we need to, and considering the damage to the ship, I'd like to be in fighting form next time we encounter the Lodians or the Numiri or anyone else who wants a piece of us. I've decided to accept their offer. We'll stay another week."  
  
She nodded. "I'll inform the crew."  
  
Chakotay pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anything else I should know?"  
  
"About the only good thing to come out of this mess was the injury report. Apart from B'Elanna's injuries, some of the engineering staff were knocked around, Lieutenant Paris broke his leg, and Crewman Harren spent half an hour trapped in a Jeffries tube with a mild concussion, but there were no casualties."  
  
He leaned back. "How is B'Elanna?"  
  
"I was just on my way to see her."  
  
Chakotay pushed away from his desk. "Mind some company?"  
  
She shrugged assent, and they made their way to Sickbay in silence.  
  
Seska was busy tending to the handful of minor injuries; Kes stood by Lieutenant Torres' bed, making small adjustments on the surgical arch. "How is she?" Janeway asked, moving over to her. Torres, sedated, was for once in her life perfectly still.  
  
"She'll be fine, Commander," Kes assured her. "The Doctor did a wonderful job. There's no sign of any permanent damage. I would like to keep her in here for a couple of days, though."  
  
"Good luck," Chakotay grinned.  
  
Janeway glanced around. Harren perched stoically on the edge of a bio-bed while Seska ran a regenerator over the purple bruise on his forehead. Kyoto cradled her arm, waiting for her turn. Paris lay grumpily immobile, glaring at the ceiling, as Ensign Wildman waved an osteo-regenerator over his broken leg.  
  
Wildman looked pale and exhausted. "I'll take over now, Ensign." Janeway patted her shoulder. "Go get some rest." The blond woman nodded her thanks. Kathryn turned to her patient.  
  
"I seem to be spending a lot of time by your bed these days, Lieutenant." She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth.  
  
He turned pain-shadowed blue eyes on her, trying to smirk. "Do you think maybe you could start spending some of it in my bed, Commander?"  
  
She tried to glare but found she couldn't help grinning at the pure cheek of him. "I guess I asked for that," she muttered.  
  
Against the quiet hum of Sickbay their soft voices carried. Kes watched from under her lashes as Chakotay's face froze. As though she'd sensed it, Commander Janeway's back stiffened and she turned, her blue gaze clashing with his. Without a word, the Captain stalked away.  
  
=/\=  
  
"Computer, activate program Chakotay Beta."  
  
~That program is currently active.~  
  
Chakotay stopped short. "Who's in Holodeck 1?"  
  
~Commander Janeway is in Holodeck 1.~  
  
His eyebrows shot up. "Open."  
  
The doors parted and he was walking into the gymnasium at Starfleet Academy, complete with the stench of mouldy socks, the thud of fists pounding on flesh, and Boothby's irascible yelling.  
  
"Guard up, Katie, for pete's sake! How many times do I have to tell you? Watch the right hook!"  
  
"I'm watching it," she yelled at the hologram.  
  
"Computer, freeze program," said Chakotay. The holographic Cardassian stilled instantly, Janeway's fist passed through him, and, off-balance, she fell heavily to the floor.  
  
"Dammit!" she yelled, and glared around. "Who the hell did that?"  
  
"I did."  
  
Kathryn scrambled to her feet, blowing hair out of her eyes. "Captain," she said shortly.  
  
"Enjoying yourself?"  
  
"Shouldn't I be?"  
  
"You're covered in bruises."  
  
Kathryn shrugged, sucking blood from her lip. "I fell down a ladder in Engineering."  
  
He regarded her mildly. "Since when have you been a boxer?"  
  
She wiped her arm across her brow. "I'm not a boxer. I just like to fight."  
  
Truer words were never spoken, thought Chakotay. "All right. Show me how you fight."  
  
She watched him, wary. "Why?"  
  
"I might be able to give you a few pointers. Computer, resume program."  
  
~Warning. Safety protocols are offline.~  
  
Chakotay looked outraged. "Fell down a ladder, huh?"  
  
She said nothing.  
  
"Computer, restore safety protocols and resume program." The computer chirped and the holographic Cardassian swung his right arm at Janeway's face, catching her cheekbone. She swore. "I told you to watch the right hook," crowed Boothby. Catching sight of Chakotay, he chortled, "Ah, the Cherokee Champion returns. Come to show Katie how it's done?"  
  
"Computer, deactivate Boothby hologram," she seethed. The Cardassian feinted toward her. "And deactivate opponent," and the Cardassian flickered into oblivion.  
  
Janeway put gloved hands on hips and skewered the captain with a death's- head stare. "Well?"  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"Put your latinum where your mouth is."  
  
He grinned at her. "Computer, boxing gloves." A pair of gloves materialised on the bench in front of him. Chakotay shrugged out of his uniform jacket, toed off his shoes and laced up the gloves. He swung under the ropes. "Ready?"  
  
In answer she punched him. Hard. In the mouth.  
  
"I guess so," he said wryly, and raised his gloves.  
  
He jabbed. She blocked. He faked right. She uppercut. He stumbled back. She followed, fists close to her chest. He went for a body blow, and she spun round and kicked him.  
  
"Jesus, Kate," he snapped. "You're a dirty fighter."  
  
"In the Maquis," she jabbed left, "you learn," she led right, "to fight dirty." She smacked him in the solar plexus, one-two. Chakotay gasped for air. "Come on," she taunted. "You're not even trying."  
  
In a fury of motion he launched himself at her. Gentle tap to the right of her head, quick jab to her ribs, and he swept his leg under, catching her behind the knees and sending them both crashing to the floor. Janeway wheezed. Chakotay threw back his head and laughed.  
  
She tried to get up, but he trapped her legs between strong thighs, her gloves between his own. "Face it, Kate," he grinned. "You lose."  
  
"Lose?" she growled. "I never lose."  
  
"In that case," he smiled, and he buffed her chin gently with his glove, raising her face to his, "would you consider a truce?"  
  
Kathryn hesitated. This wasn't just about the fight anymore. She made a decision.  
  
"Truce," she agreed, and she smiled back at him. And it felt good. 


End file.
